


again and again

by teddygirl105



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Gen, Implied/Referenced Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insanity, Mild Gore, Murder, Post-Time Skip, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Time Skip, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicide, Time Travel, Underage Drinking, claude got stuck in a time loop until he wins basically, no beta we die like Glenn, suicide pills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddygirl105/pseuds/teddygirl105
Summary: His eyes hold the memories of war, etched into his mind and forever bringing themselves with him. His eyes, stuck in the body of his past self from five years ago, cannot sleep without the images of his friends dying in front of him.It hurts. It hurts so much that Claude just wants it to stop. Their blood is already stained on his hands and he's heard their pleas of mercy so many times, but the Goddess won't let him go until he gets his happy ending."Again,"she whispers,"you must do it again."ORClaude gets stuck in a timeloop. (updating tags)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> everyone makes fics about byleth retaining memories throughout each route but I always wondered what it would be like if one of the house leaders went back in time to 5 years ago
> 
> and because Claude is usually mr. smiley it would be interesting to see how everyone would react to a sudden change
> 
> mainly self indulgent but also bc I love claude
> 
> **also please please please know that there is a lot of stuff about suicide and other sensitive topics in this fic. it's already in the tags but it's a thing that shows up in chapters throughout the entire fic. **

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude meets his death.

Claude knew that Edelgard was stubborn. Kept to her ideals no matter how much you tried to convince her. He knew that back in the Officers’ Academy, and it seemed like old habits died hard.

When she approached him that day in Derdriu, his troops dwindled down to nothing and he himself cornered, Claude just smiled. “I guess its the end for me, huh?” he spoke, staring her in the eyes. “A shame that we meet once more at the battlefield.”

Edelgard clicked her tongue. “Stop your words, Claude. There’s no use in trying to convince me.” she spoke, pointing her axe in the middle of his eyes. A chuckle escaped his lips, having no fear for what could happen.

“I know, I know. Just the same as you were five years ago.” Looking over her shoulder, he stared at Byleth, watching his unmoving face. “Look at you, Teach. To think that you’d follow the little Black Eagle this far.” he commented.

“Shut your mouth.” Edelgard growled, the tip of her axe grazing Claude’s skin.

“Alright, alright, sorry for hitting your nerves, Emperor. I’ll let you do your job.” he sighed, crouching to his knees and admitting defeat. Without another word, Edelgard raised her axe, prepared to strike.

Looking up at his professor just as she swung, Claude whispered his last words. “I have faith… that you will lead this nation better than I would.”

A single tear fell from Byleth’s eye, before pain and darkness engulfed Claude’s conscious.

* * *

_ I never expected you to be the type to give up so easily. _

_Then again, unlike the others, you know when you reach your limit._

_ But this isn’t enough._

_ There’s so much more you can do, Claude._

_ You must keep on going. No matter how many tries it takes. _

** _You must win._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)   
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	2. awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude struggles to adjust himself to a peaceful life once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating getting this read over by a friend, but I really wanted to update the fic so I'm posting it anyways
> 
> might make some changes later when it isn't 2 am in the morning and my brain is actually working properly heehee
> 
> also, thank you for the amazing reception from the first chapter despite how short it was!

A panicked yell escaped his lips, and Claude woke with a start, a cold sweat running down his back and tears rolling down his face. What happened? Didn’t he just die by Edelgard’s hands? Was it all a dream? It couldn’t have been. Everything felt so… real. All the pain, the scars, the memories. Surely this wasn’t some sort of joke, right?

If this _was_ some wretched joke, then why was everything still so vivid in his mind? He could remember seeing Hilda being burnt alive by a mage, her screams filling his ears so vividly. Marianne being ambushed by an assassin, her throat cut clean. Ignatz, poor, poor Ignatz, torn to pieces by a swarm of soldiers.

Raphael and Leonie, who had thrown themselves on top of Claude in order to save him from a flurry of arrows he didn’t see. Dear little Lysithea, swallowed up by dark magic and never to be seen again. Lorenz, caught off guard and pierced right through the heart by a spear.

So much blood was shed. All of his friends died horrible deaths. Claude could never get them out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. He failed to save them. He could never get them back.

And yet, here he was, sitting in his dorm at the monastery, his body feeling five years weaker, but his mind the same as it was before he died.

“If this is the goddess playing a trick on me, I hate it.” he growled, wiping away his tears. Taking in his surroundings, his eyes absorbed everything in, engraining it into his memory. He had missed this place, and seeing it not in ruins and overtaken by greenery was… new.

Everything was just how it was before Edelgard had made her attack on the monastery. His desk pushed against the wall to his left. All his books and things thrown on the floor. Nostalgia filled Claude’s body, warming him up and tingling at his fingertips.

And then, he remembered what happened before he woke up.

** _You must win._ **

Those words repeated in his head over and over again. Who had spoken to him? Goddess forbid why they decided to send him all the way back to five years ago? Was he cursed? Did the goddess Sothis decide that he’d be her new puppet?

A dry, humorless laugh rumbled out of his throat. “I must be going insane. Surely.” he whispered, unable to comprehend the situation. Claude wasn’t one for gods. Everyone knew that by now. But, for some reason, something in him told him to trust the voice.

What ever it was, he needed to win.

“Claude, are you alright?”

His gaze went to the door, which was now wide open by a familar, pink haired figure. Hilda. “I heard you yelling, did something happen?” she asked, her eyes filled with worry despite her calm face.

God, Claude hadn’t been so glad to see Hilda before in his entire life. There she stood, alive and well, not dead and burnt to ashes. He would have cried and hugged her tight, but that would only make her more worried.

“I-I’m fine. Just busy thinking out loud to myself. As per usual.” he lied, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. It was hard to maintain eye contact without the image of her screaming in agony taking over his vision.

“Well, you better get ready soon. Raphael’ll probably eat all the food, and you’re gonna need the energy today. Some stupid training outside the monastery later tonight.” she grumbled, and Claude nodded.

“Thank you. You’d best be on your way to prepare, then.” he answered sharply. Hilda looked at him as if he had two heads. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

She tilted her head slightly, hand to her chin. “I dunno. You seem… different. More noble-like? Mature?” she suggested, and Claude burst out laughing.

“Me? More noble-like? In the span of a single night? You must be joking!” A small smile formed on Hilda’s face, looking more satisfied with his behavior now.

“Alright, fine. Might just be the heat getting to me. Anyways, I’m gonna go now! See ya!” she cheerily announced, waving to Claude before closing his door and walking off.

As soon as he could hear her footsteps fade away, Claude sighed, his smile fading. “I gotta get used to all this again.” he muttered. He hated how fake he was acting. It was as if someone else was in his body, saying words he didn’t want to say.

In just the span of a few minutes of being in the past, someone noticed his odd behavior. If he couldn’t act like how he was five years ago, then he’d probably have to try again and again.

Being cheery was one thing, but pretending to be happy at the people you saw die right in front of you, hearing their screams of agony even though they’re right there talking to you, smiling at you-

_ ‘No. Stop thinking about that.’ _ he thought to himself. _ ‘It’s okay. They won’t die this time. You won’t let them.’ _

God, would he even last a day without wanting to break down? Just the thought of having to see everyone, so happy and cheery, knowing of their fate and the fact that war would start and their blood spilt; it made Claude’s stomach churn.

There was no such thing as a good war, Claude had learnt being the Alliance leader. He was on the good side - or what he thought was the good side - but every minute felt like he was stabbed. Every minute, war stripped him of his beliefs. His joy. His hope.

War had scarred him for five whole years.

There was no way he could be back in the peaceful world so soon, due to the deaths, blood, and smell of flesh in those past five years. But if fate allowed him to retry, to save the lives lost and regain his glory, then he would do so.

Getting himself out of bed, Claude clothed himself quickly. The sight of his school uniform made his chest tighten, bile rising in his throat. It had been a long time since he lived the lifestyle of a student, and he hoped that his memories of the future would be enough to save these poor souls.

Mentally preparing himself, Claude set off to the dining hall. He did his best to keep a smile on his face, saying his greetings to those who walked past. Most were just students, no one of interest just yet.

And then, in the corner of his peripheral vision, was Edelgard.

At the sight of her, his smile faded into a scowl, and he couldn’t help but deliberately walk away and take a longer route. There was no way he would be able to face her right now, not without wanting to stab an arrow in her eye.

Maybe later.

As he arrived at his destination, Claude was greeted with the usual sight of Raphael and Caspar wolfing down their food, Ignatz and Linhardt watching them with worry in case they choked. Grabbing a plate of his own, Claude sat next to them without a word.

“Oh, good morning Claude!” Ignatz greeted. “I didn’t notice you there. Normally you’d announce your presence.” he commented, and Claude just gave a fake smile.

“Don’t be worried, Ignatz. I didn’t have the best sleep, so I’m just a little out of it today. I should be fine by the time we leave for training.” he lied, picking up a fork and beginning to eat.

“You aren’t eating as much as you do! Are you feeling sick, Claude?” Raphael loudly asked, taking another large bite.

“I’m not sure. Maybe? I’ll see how I feel later.” he replied, doing his best to steer away from the topic of, “why doesn’t claude act the same” and to anything else.

Claude finished his meal quickly, making small talk with his other house members and fellow academy students. He knew he had to face his fears soon, but not now. He needed time to dwell on his thoughts, on the fact that he was back in the monastery.

Everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was death. Corpses upon corpses on the battlefield, the stench of blood and flesh filling his nose. Those he once knew gone. Even himself, dead. Everything he once loved destroyed, strong friendships forgotten in an instant.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted to a stagnant, peaceful air. Everyone living their lives so contently, without the worry of having to fight their friends. Too busy focused on training and their studies, on the hobbies they enjoyed like gardening or fishing.

Such a contrast of the same world, and here he was, living in both sides at the same time. His muscles were so used to moving constantly, having to kill his enemies and retreat to other locations. But now, all he could do was stroll around the monastery, his body too weak for his liking.

Maybe some training would make do.

Claude stopped at his room, picking up his precious bow and quiver from where they sat on his desk. It had been a long time since he last held them in his hands, feeling more fragile than they used to be. During the war, his trusty bow was replaced with Failnaught, and he had used the relic much longer than this little thing.

Stepping outside of his room, he froze suddenly. He had everything he needed, yet it felt like there was something missing. His hand instinctively went to the hidden pocket in his tunic, a simple little thing he had sewn himself. It was empty.

The Claude of before would have usually kept things he had smuggled, like treats from the dining hall or notes he wanted to pass to other students.

But the Claude now? The one scarred by war, whose mind was much older than his body? He’d keep a suicide pill.

He didn’t necessarily need the pill. Claude knew that war had many chances to kill him in an instant, but it was a precaution he was willing to take. Knowing how wretched Edelgard was, she could easily want to keep him hostage for information, and he didn’t want to be in her hands. The same went for the insane Dimitri.

For five whole years, Claude kept a small capsule of cyanide with him at all times, in a pocket no one knew. Being without it was like not having a shirt on. He needed it on him.

Turning on his heel, back in he went, closing the doors tightly and throwing his bow and quiver onto the bed. Heading straight to his little storage of poisons and such, it didn’t take him long to find what he needed.

A tiny capsule of cyanide.

To be honest, he had no idea when he received the little thing, or how he got it, but it would work. Slipping it into his pocket, Claude instantly felt more at ease. He felt so guilty having such a dangerous poison with him at all times, but as long as no one knew, then it would be fine.

War did horrible things to you.

Satisfied, he picked up his bow and quiver once more, heading to the training grounds. Jeritza was there, training a few students on their sword skills. He met eyes with Claude, blinking at him before continuing on.

Situating himself in front of a target around 20 meters away, he began some archery practice. It felt so good to be using a weapon again, and while Claude wasn’t able to do some skills he had during the war, his technique was much better than it would have been.

Despite practicing hard and feeling accomplished afterwards, his body itched for more. Some close combat. Though he was an archer, and damn skilled one at that, using a sword was something he had learned through his friends. It was a useful skill to have, especially when war meant that everything would help.

The Claude of the past would have no idea how to use a sword, let alone hold it. And yet, here he was, grabbing one of the lighter wooden training swords in his hand, testing how it felt. It was certainly not the same, but it would make do.

“Jeritza.” he called out, making said man look over at him. Turning towards him, he pointed his sword at the older man, his eyes turning cold and serious. “Spar me.”

Those in the training area all stopped to see what was going on. Claude, Mr. Archer, wanting to spar Jeritza in swordfighting? Was he joking?

“Claude, are you even capable of holding a sword?” Felix taunted, clearly amused by the Golden Deer’s antics.

However, Jeritza thought otherwise. “If that is what you want, then I will agree.” he answered, making Claude smirk.

The two of them met in the center of the training area, the whole space cleared out to give them room. Everyone wanted to watch the spectacle play out, betting on whether or not the heir to Riegan would lose in the first few seconds or not.

“Start!”

As soon as those words left Felix’s mouth, Claude rushed right in, surprising Jeritza with his speed. His swing was quickly parried, and another, and one more. Despite his current attempts being in vain, he just kept on going and going.

Right now, Claude didn’t see Jeritza as their instructor. He saw him as the Death Knight.

While his true identity was never fully revealed, Claude had his suspicions. With each swing he took, allowing him to see more of Jeritza’s fighting style, the more it matched up. He was the one who kidnapped “Monica.” They were the main reason why Jeralt died. Why Byleth couldn’t stop crying for a week, stricken with grief.

Maybe Claude _ did _have some sort of personal affection to his professor, and maybe that _was_ the reason why so many rash decisions were made. However, it didn’t excuse than an innocent life was taken that day.

Sweat dripped down his chin, his breathing heavy and his arms feeling like lead. Claude had never faced off against Jeritza before, and his weaker body wasn’t able to keep up with the skills retained in his memories.

Using his fatigue as an advantage, Jeritza charged at him, his sword ready to strike. Claude was barely able to parry back, his arms shaking as he pushed against his impending doom.

“Your eyes show hatred, Claude.” Jeritza spoke calmly, only making the former angrier. “You mustn’t let your feelings get to you.”

Claude grit his teeth, desperately thinking of a way to end the fight. In a blink of an eye, he kicked Jeritza in the chest, pushing him back and allowing room to lunge forward. His sword was pressed against the older man’s side, the hilt pushed against his stomach and acting as if Claude had stabbed him.

“I’ll do whatever I want, you murderer.” he whispered, a wild smile on his face.

Slowly stepping back from his opponent, Claude threw the training sword to the ground, his fatigue finally setting in. “Oh dear goddess, I’m never doing that again.” he wheezed, collapsing on his hands and knees to catch his breath. In the corner of his eyes he watched as a grumbling Felix passed over a few coins to Sylvain.

Everyone watching was in shock. No one had ever defeated Jeritza in a sparring match before. The fact that Claude was an archer and not a swordsman made it even more unbelievable. No one had seen the house leader ever hold a sword before during his time at the monastery, so when the hell did he get the time to practice?

“Claude, that was amazing!” Dimitri exclaimed, running over to him, Dedue by his side. “I had no idea you could use a sword so well!”

“And I didn’t either.” he answered, wiping away his sweat. Crawling over to the sidelines, he took a seat, sprawled out. “Man, I need water.”

His muscles were tired, shaking violently and unable to support his own weight. Maybe he had pushed himself a bit far, considering his current physical fitness. But damn, it felt good.

A waterskin was held out to him, and his gaze followed it to meet with Dedue’s eyes. “Here. You need it.” he spoke, pushing it into his hands.

“Thank you.” Fumbling to unscrew the cap, Claude tipped it back, feeling the cool water slide down his throat with ease. Handing the empty waterskin back to Dedue, he pushed himself to stand, taking help from Dimitri.

“Oh dear, I’m awfully sweaty. I guess a shower is in need.” he muttered to himself, picking at his clothes soaked with sweat. Giving a nod to those around him, Claude picked up his bow and quiver from where they laid. As he turned to leave, he met eyes with Jeritza once more.

The teacher’s eyes were filled with aggravation and confusion, unable to comprehend the fact that he was beaten by a mere archer. Oh, and the fact that his true identity was known by a student. Claude smiled, giving a little wave before leaving the training grounds.

“Ah, I live to spite people.” he sighed, feeling accomplished.

Maybe being back in the past wasn’t as bad as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely do appreciate ideas if y'all have any! mine are dry as fuck bc the only initial thought for this fic was "claude suffer from time loop" and literally nothing else so... pls sauce
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	3. onward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make their way into Adrestia, settling down for the night near a village. Claude realizes how much he hates Edelgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this chapter and the following chapter were one whole thing together but I figured it was wayyyy too long and like drastically different so I've split it up into two chapters now
> 
> this one is more calm, but the next one is gonna be.... pretty graphic.

“Claude, hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

“Yeah yeah, just hold on a minute Edelgard!”

Grumbling under his breath, Claude snatched another book lying on the ground, hastily shoving it into his pack.

Yeah, so maybe he did get caught up reading and completely forgot about their training. But hey, what else was he to do? Sit in his room for hours doing nothing?

He had tried to pass time by taking a nap after his training, seeing how exhausted he was. It ended up with him waking up half an hour later, the memories of war seeping into his dreams. This promptly ensued a mental breakdown for the next 15 minutes, before Claude forcingly got himself together.

“No need to get so wound up, Ms. Hresvelg.” he muttered, exiting his room with his bow in hand.

“If you are to be the leader of the Alliance in the future, then surely you’d have better management of your time.” she scolded. “Regardless, let us meet with Rhea and the Knights of Seiros.” Brushing her hair off her shoulder, she began to walk. Claude reluctantly followed behind, still bitter.

** _You could kill her right now. Hide her in her room and say that she got ill suddenly. Wouldn’t that take care of all your problems?_ **

He grit his teeth, trying to block out his inner thoughts. They were alone after all. No one would notice a thing if he ran her through with the dagger on his side. Besides, that was the eventual goal anyways, wasn’t it? To kill Edelgard and stop her tyranny.

_ No, you can’t do that. The Adrestian Empire will just end up launching their attack earlier. You need to follow the past. _

His fingers itched to do something, and it was definitely to strangle Edelgard. Claude obviously couldn’t do that at the moment, seeing how they were approaching Rhea and the others, so he resorted to fiddling with an arrow.

“I wish all of you safe training. If anything happens, please return to the monastery immediately. May the Goddess guide you.” Rhea spoke, her voice sickly sweet and calm. He just lightly clicked his tongue, muttering his disdain.

Claude wasn’t a fan of the Church. He was never a believer of gods to begin with, and Rhea only fueled that reason. Everything she spoke of was for the Goddess, even going as far as executing “sinners,” and it easily became irritating. He’d usually drown out her speeches before they went on missions, as well as never entering the cathedral to begin with. Despite it being a place for peace and to pray, it just felt too… ominous.

The Knights of Seiros were good people, Claude just didn’t like how devoted they were to Rhea and the Church. Their power would be better off in a mercenary guild, if anything.

With one final nod at everything, they set off towards Adrestian soil, leaving the monastery. Everyone was happily chatting, making the atmosphere much more lighthearted and comfortable. It wasn’t everyday that the students were let outside of the monastery aside from their monthly missions.

This sort of atmosphere was something that Claude had missed dearly. No stress of being attacked, no need to rush onto battlefield with the risk of dying right on your heels. Just smiles. Peace. Despite how foreign it felt, it warmed his heart, leaving Claude feeling… bittersweet. It was nice to see the smiles on the faces of his house members, but he couldn’t help but remember that this would all be destroyed in a few months time.

It only made him want to kill Edelgard even more.

Everything was her fault, was it not? In his eyes, her ideals were twisted, a bloodthirsty monster who would do everything just to rid of the social pyramid. Yet, if that were the case, then why the hell was she still in charge? Even if she did get rid of the borders between those called nobles and commoners, she was still above them all. That social pyramid she wanted to destroy was still prominent _ because _of her.

And to think that during their little expedition today, they’d be attacked by thieves _ she _sent. She wanted both Claude and Dimitri to die. Did she not think this through? If she returned to the monastery as the only house leader alive, then surely there would be some suspicion, no? Unless she would somehow fake her own death and disguise herself as the Flame Emperor for the rest of her plan.

Regardless, Edelgard was wicked. Just thinking about her made Claude’s blood boil. Seeing her chat with Dimitri so casually at this moment, as if she wasn’t thinking about seeing his dead body and her plan successful, it disgusted him. His eyes darkened, and the planted smile on his face faded into a scowl. The arrow he was fiddling with snapped.

“Claude? Are you alright?” asked Leonie, having noticed the change in demeanour. She was concerned, looking at the broken arrow in his hands.

“I’m just peachy.” he answered, though he couldn’t help hiding the growl in his voice.

In the end, Claude moved away from Edelgard and over to where the majority of his house was. While most of the time, he just watched them talk and listened, it was much better than looking at Edelgard and constantly wanting to stab her.

Maybe later.

“So Claude, feeling any better than this morning?” Hilda chimed in, slowing down to walk in time with him. “You put on quite a show with Jeritza, from what I heard. Does that mean that I can fight less?” she asked, putting on her signature smile.

“Of course not! Hilda, you’re one of our strongest units, it be a shame to let all of your talent go to waste.” he complimented, winking at her.

“Oh my, well I’m flattered you think that way. But really, fighting isn’t my thing.” Kicking a stray pebble, she swayed back and forth gently, humming to herself.

“And what if war breaks out?”

Hilda stopped, her voice caught in her throat as she turned to look at Claude. His eyes had grown dark, something that had become a permanent feature during the war. “There’s still conflict everywhere. A war is bound to break out sooner or later. What will you do then? Your brother will be out there fighting for his life. And you? Will you just sit around and watch everyone die? Or will you help?”

Claude turned to Hilda, his stare dangerously filled with fire and regret, softening when he realized how afraid the pink-haired teen looked. “You gotta keep on training, okay? Even if you don’t want to, you’ll be thankful in the future.” he explained, a small smile on his face.

“O-Oh. Okay then.” she whispered.

Hilda had never seen Claude look so… broken. Never in her time at the academy had Claude ever been so serious about something. Sure, he was the one who planned out their tactics and what not, but it was always with a smile on his face. This, however, was new.

There was so much regret and pain in his eyes.

The only other time Hilda had seen such a thing was a time not in this life. Claude once talked about his childhood during the war. Being rejected from both nations he was a part of because of his mixed blood, assassination attempts made on his life. It was a rough childhood. During that time, his eyes held pain, but at the same time, a fiery will of determination. This Claude didn’t have any of that.

Something had definitely happened overnight, but she knew that she’d never find out.

Claude and Hilda refrained from talking for the rest of the way, lest they end up talking about a sensitive topic once more. The former chatted with Raphael about training, while the latter kept with Marianne and Lysithea. Occasionally, they’d sneak glances at each other just to see how they were before turning back.

“Alright, we’ll be stopping here for the night!” a booming voice echoed through the forest, alerting everyone. “Students, please set up your tents in pairs, dinner will be served shortly!” Alois yelled, spurring everyone into work. While most of the students partnered up with those in the same house, Claude had other ideas.

“Dimitri!” he called out, spotting the prince in a spot alone. “Wanna partner up?” he asked. “As much as I like my house, Raphael snores pretty loud, and Ignatz sleeptalks. Plus, I’m pretty sure they’re going with strict same gender rules.”

“Oh, sure. Why not.” Dimitri smiled, accepting Claude’s offer graciously. The two of them got to work immediately, setting up their tent in perfect teamwork. They had finished much faster than everyone else, so they set off to help out.

By the time all of the tents were set up, dinner was finished. It was a simple game stew, but it was hearty and filling. Claude savoured each bite, the salty and rich gravy complimenting the vegetables and meat wonderfully.

Ingredients were scarce during the war, and as such the chefs would water everything down in order to create more rations. It had been a long time since he had tasted food for the purpose of enjoying it, and not for survival. 

Being one of the first people finished with their meal, Claude went and started helping, cleaning the dishes and storing away everything securely into their respective packs. He’d much rather keep himself busy than have to socialize, if he had to be honest. He was used to this during the war, extra hands were always welcome for any task, and he wasn’t just going to let everyone do the work as he gallivanted around the monastery.

Some were a bit confused as to what he was doing, especially to nobles like Lorenz, but Claude gave them no heed. It was none of their business anyways.

All the soldiers gave him their thanks, to which he merely responded with a court nod and a small smile. Washing himself up, he got dressed for the night with a low cut shirt and trousers. He retreated to his tent, spreading out his bedding on the ground and taking out one of the books he brought with him.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you’d read about dark magic, Claude. What’s with the sudden interest?” Dimitri asked as he entered the tent, having finished washing up as well.

“Well, it’s not so much for me.” he answered, his eyes not straying from where he was on the page. “I was thinking about training Lorenz to become a dark mage, and eventually up to a dark bishop.”

“Oh? Well isn’t that an interesting thought. Don’t you need a dark seal for that?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m hoping to get my hands on one sometime soon, but locating these will be a difficult task.” he sighed, looking up. “You wouldn’t happen to know, would you?”

Dimitri shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know either. Would it be beneficial to you if I helped in your search?” he suggested, having spread out his bedding as well.

“That would be nice, but I wouldn’t want to burden you with my little wishes.” Claude smiled. “Thank you for the offer.”

The two of them sat in a comfortable silence, the only noise being the faint chattering of a few knights, and the crickets in the forest. Claude continued reading his book, while Dimitri polished his weapons. For some reason, he felt more at peace than he had ever been before. Whether it was because he was so used to war, or Dimitri’s presence, Claude wasn’t sure.

Before the war, Dimitri was someone that Claude enjoyed being around. Even with his constant teasing, the boar prince never got angry. Back then, Dimitri was the only other person that Claude had confided in other than Hilda. Their trust was unbreakable, and the two heavily relied on each other despite being in different houses.

Of course, all of that was broken when the war started. When word came around that Dimitri was sent to prison and barely excaped execution, Claude couldn’t help but send troops in hopes that he’d be able to find Dimitri. In the end, he had ended up dying before he had even heard a single word about Dimitri. There were small reports that stated that he was alive, but nothing more than that.

Byleth. Claude would never forgive his professor for siding with the Empire, especially seeing how they were the ones that let him die. No attempt at surrender, no choice to even give Edelgard Derdriu and Failnaught. The only option was to die.

And yet, his affection for his teacher was still prominent in his body. His teacher still had a good heart, and he knew deep inside that Byleth probably never wanted this to happen. Despite teaching the Black Eagles, he and Claude got along like two peas in a pod. They’d often have tea together and discuss trivial matters.

Claude remembered seeing the tear that ran down Byleth’s face before he died. Surely that tear was one of remorse and regret, was it not? If it had hurt Claude to see his fellow classmates die, then surely Byleth must have been devastated, having to work against them and to be the one to end their life.

Goddess, this was too much for him.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Claude closed his book, looking over at Dimitri. The prince had went to bed quite a long time ago, leaving the former to read in candlelight. Sleep would do him good.

Setting his book aside, Claude laid down, pulling the covers to his chin and closing his eyes.

* * *

_ The smell of blood and burning flesh filled his nostrils, blood staining his clothes with each swing of his sword and the hit of an arrow. Claude didn’t want to be fighting, killing those he once held to his heart so dearly, but war didn’t stop for anyone. _

_ Lorenz and Marianne had already fallen. So did Raphael and Leonie. Ignatz had died a few weeks prior as well. It was just him, Lysithea, and Hilda left. Knowing what was at stake, the three of them kept close in order to stay alive. _

_ In the distance, he could see the Adrestian Empire, led by Ferdinand. To his side was Petra and Caspar. The others? He had no idea. Probably dead. He only knew that Bernadetta was dead. He was the one who ran his dagger through her body, after all. _

_ There was little hope in defeating the Empire. With the Alliance severely weakened and the Kingdom completely gone, there was no way to win anymore. Claude had no idea why he was still on this battlefield, risking his life. _

_ Regardless, there was no time to think of such a thing. He was on the battlefield, not in a little pavilion having tea. _

_ Despite hating having to kill, war had since then dulled down his awareness, and killing his enemies had become second nature. There was no time to think of ways to prevent it, especially if they were just to come back over and over again. _

_ He could still remember how sorrowful Bernadetta looked when Claude had struck her down. Used as bait by Edelgard, purposefully set there just to die. She had uttered a few words before passing on, something about wishing that the future could have been filled with peace rather than war. _

_ He had wished for the same thing as well. But not anymore. _

_ There was no more tastiful arguments with Ferdinand over what tea was the best. Stargazing with Petra late at night as the two reminisced over their homelands. He could no longer catch Dimitri training late at night, only to pull him into a chat and distract him. Fishing with Flayn, or tending to the flowers in the greenhouse with Annette. _

_ The only thing left was a bitter feeling in his mouth as death surrounded them all. _

_ They were all so young. Thrown headfirst into a war as a teenager was already harsh enough, making decisions that meant life or death. Claude should have just given up already. _

_ Maybe it was the Almyran in him, making him fight until he lived or died. Or was it the Riegan in his blood, telling him to be stubborn? _

_ Regardless, the dead would have their tribute. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a reminder that the only route that claude has ever seen is crimson flower!! his opinions towards edelgard and the empire will be very biased as such
> 
> updates aren't going to be pretty frequent due to school and me having less time to write so ;^; the next chapter will be out tomorrow only because I have it from splitting this chapter into two so heehee hope you'll enjoy that when it comes out
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	4. bloodshed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thirst for revenge takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering how this chapter will go just know that I almost made the summary "aren't you tired of being nice? don't you want to go apeshit?" so if that doesn't sum it up then idk what will
> 
> I yeeted to edit this chapter and ended up adding a few more things at the end bc that shit was rushed as fuck
> 
> also, some pretty graphic shit this chapter. be warned

Claude awoke just like how he did in the morning. His hands gripped his bedsheets tightly, a scream caught in his throat as he vaguely remembered where he was. They were outside. He was in a tent with Dimitri. It was night.

Letting go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Claude steadily calmed himself down, feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest. Sweat trailed down his spine, and everything felt too hot, like lava on his skin.

Being careful not to wake Dimitri, Claude threw his blankets to the side, shuffling over to pull on his boots and leave the tent. The night air was cooling, instantly calming himself and making him feel safe. To his surprise, the fire was still burning, though much smaller than it was before they went to bed, two or three knights sitting around it.

“Well, if it isn’t Claude.” Alois spoke, having spotted the Golden Deer approach the fire. “What keeps you up this late?” he asked, giving a friendly smile. Even with Alois’ rambunctious nature, he had a softer side to him, having a little daughter himself.

“Couldn’t sleep. Nightmares, but nothing too bad.” he explained, the lies entwining themselves into his words so easily. “I’ll be going back to my tent soon, I just wanted some fresh air.”

“Make yourself comfortable then. There are some extra blankets over there if you get chilly.” Alois gestured to the pile of cloths next to him, and Claude gratefully took one, draping it around his shoulders. With a sigh, he sat down on the grass, watching the firewood burn away, crackling and sparking.

The silence of night was accompanied by crickets and a few stray fireflies, the atmosphere comforting despite the current time. Claude looked up, admiring the night sky and the stars that adorned the view. During his time in Almyra, he often found himself stargazing, learning about the constellations with his father.

He wondered how his dad was doing at the moment. Busy being the king, he supposed. Claude didn’t write home often, as both his parents were too busy ruling to even bother writing back. He was well aware that they cared about his wellbeing, and already knew that this was just their way of letting him become fully independent.

Maybe he’d run back to Almyra instead of staying in Fodlan, and avoid the war altogether.

It surely seemed like a plausible plan. Lorenz would have to take his place in the Alliance, but the noble was fit for it, and would love to have his rightful place back. He could live out his life back home and take the throne there, his intended plan regardless of the outcome of the war.

No, the Alliance needed him. Fodlan needed him.

An hour or so flashed by in mere moments, the sky began to brighten ever so slightly, signalling that daybreak was in a few moments. Taking note of it, Claude pushed himself to his feet, deftly removing the blanket around his shoulders and folding it into a neat square. Placing it back into the pile, he bid goodnight to Alois and headed back into his tent.

Instead of going back to bed, Claude changed back into his school uniform, clasping the familiar bright yellow of his cape to his shoulder. Adjusting the fabric, he reached into his pocket to double check if his pill was still there. The feeling of the small capsule eased his mind, making him feel safer.

Claude reached into his pack, pulling out a bundle of fabric. It was a cloak that he had found laying around in his room, shoved in a corner under some books. He couldn’t exactly remember why he had it, but Claude figured he’d finally get some use out of it. Draping it around his shoulders, he tied the strings into a loose knot, lifting the hood over his head.

Grabbing his bow and quiver and strapping a small pouch around his waist, Claude left the tent silently.

The knights were occupied, changing shifts for the last part of the night. He used their distraction to sneak between the cluster of tents, hiding in the shadows and slipping into the forest.

Claude’s current objective was to see where the hell those bandits were. If they struck their camp close to dawn, then their little group should be nearby, right? It was a death wish to rush in and try to take them all down himself, so he stuck to causing a distraction in order to run back and warn the camp.

And then he remembered.

They were near Remire Village. Byleth and the mercenaries would be taking camp there. Maybe, just maybe, if he could find them first and perhaps warn them ahead of time, it would be to their advantage. Allow them to trust him faster and hopefully allow Byleth to choose his house instead of any of the other two.

A bit selfish, but Claude was willing to do anything in order to win.

Diverting from his original path, Claude began to run towards Remire Village, quickly reaching the outskirts in no time. There, in his peripheral behind the trees, was a large camp set up near the inn. The mercenaries.

To no surprise, Jeralt was already up, busy making preparations for their trip to Faerghus, if Claude remembered correctly. There was about 20 minutes before the bandits would strike their camp, plus an additional 5 minutes onto that before the three house leaders would stumble upon Jeralt and Byleth.

Finding a scrap piece of paper and a piece of charcoal in his pouch, he quickly scribbled down a message, tying it to one of his arrows. Sneaking behind a tree, Claude nocked his arrow, aiming high into the air before letting it fly. Without another look, he ran back towards camp.

Jeralt could have sworn that he saw a figure run back into the forest, a bow in hand, but the man passed it off as the darkness and his bad eyesight.

Only to have an arrow strike the ground right in front of his feet.

Startled, he whipped his head back at the forest. Maybe his eyes weren’t lying to him after all. Though weary, he crouched down and tugged the arrow out of the ground, untying the piece of paper near its fletching.

“A trio of students from Garreg Mach Monastery will be asking for your help shortly. Please help them quell the bandits that have attacked their camp. _ The golden sun shines with the verdant wind. _” he read outloud, thoroughly confused by the cryptic message.

Regardless, he stowed the message in his pocket, keeping the arrow to add to their supplies.

* * *

Claude barely made it back to the camp in time, sneaking into his tent and pulling off his cloak to store in his pack before running back out. Many students were already awake, changed into their uniforms and ready to start the day. He was well aware that Dimitri was not inside, having woken up already. He’d deal with the questions later.

The bandits were near. He just knew it.

“Claude? What’s the rush?” Alois questioned, watching the golden deer rush out of his tent as he polished one of his swords. “You look panicked, is there something wrong?-”

The knight was cut off by Claude firing an arrow right by his head, letting it fly into the forest. A muffled scream of pain was heard, which was followed by a curse before a warcry resounded through the camp. He was right on.

Taking a deep breath, Claude let out a shrill whistle, loud enough to wake the rest of the people in the camp and alert those who were already awake. “Bandits! Protect the camp!” he yelled, taking aim at another spot in the forest and letting his arrow fly.

“Shit, they’ve found us! Charge, boys!”

In the blink of an eye, dozens of bandits jumped out of the forest, their weapons raised and eyes ready to kill. The knights quickly jumped into a defensive stance, caught off guard by the attack. Many of the students stepped out of their tents to quite the sight, yelping in shock. Some rushed to get their weapons, while others ran back in their tent to hide.

Without warning, the bandits engaged in battle, running at those who were unaware. The knights quickly spread themselves out around the camp, protecting the students to the best of their abilities.

Claude ran into the fray with courage, dodging their attacks with ease as he took them down one by one, doing his best to dwindle their numbers. He soon found himself back to back with Dimitri and Edelgard, both in their uniforms and weapons in hand.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke!” Dimitri yelled, swiftly disarming a sword out of one bandit’s hand with the butt of his lance, knocking his assiliant out with a fist to their face.

“Sorry if I worried you!” Claude yelled back, drawing his sword to parry a blow. “Call it intuition, okay? I had a feeling that there was something up!” he tried to explain, striking the man’s temple with the hilt of his sword.

“Surely there’s more to this than intuition!” Edelgard added, swinging her axe in a wide arc, scaring away the bandit on her side.

Clicking his tongue, Claude began to sprint into the forest, hearing Dimitri and Edelgard yell at him. He was supposed to run as his “tactic.” He needed to follow the past. As much as he wanted to continue fighting, he had already warned Jeralt of their presence. Claude didn’t want to keep him waiting.

The other house leaders were hot on his heels, grumbling about Claude’s tactics. “Hurry, they’re following us!” Dimitri announced, shoving him forward.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m well aware of that!” he exclaimed, seeing the edge of the forest nearing. The three students broke through and ran into the village, running headfirst into the mercenary camp.

“Who are you brats?” one asked, a rough looking man with scars littered all over his body.

“Now there, there’s no need to be so imposing.” a woman chided, placing a hand on his shoulder. Turning to another one of the mercenaries, she nodded, and he ran into the inn. “Surely little kiddos like you wouldn’t be here without a reason. Just wait momentarily, you’ll be able to talk to our leader.” she explained, and the three of them nodded.

“You have our thanks.” Claude answered. Awkwardly standing around, the house leaders kept their distance from the mercenaries, twiddling their thumbs. It wasn’t long before Jeralt had walked out of the inn, Byleth trailing behind him.

“Please, forgive our intrusion.” Dimitri started, giving a short bow to Jeralt as he stopped in front of them. “We would not bother you if the situation weren’t dire.”

Jeralt scoffed. “What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?” he asked. Despite looking annoyed, he aware that the message he had received earlier was correct.

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits.” Claude intervened, cutting Dimitri off before he could speak once more. “I hope you’d be able to lend us your help in defeating them.”

“Bandits? Here?”

“Yes, they attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.” Edelgard added.

“To think, they’d go as far as waking up so early to attack some defenseless students before the golden sun rises and the verdant wind begins to blow.” Claude sighed, pressing a hand to his temples to act like he was disappointed. Glancing at Jeralt between his fingers, he saw the look of shock on his face and hid the smirk that grew on his lips.

“Sir!” A mercenary approached them, his face filled with panic. “Bandits spotted just outside the village! Damn… There’s a lot of them.”

Jeralt sighed, turning towards Byleth. “I guess we don’t have a choice, do we? Can’t just leave this village to ruins. Are you ready?” he asked. Byleth nodded, as stoic as ever.

Looking at each other, the students nodded as well, quickly running off to the conflict. Claude lagged behind, his steps in time with Jeralt’s as the man made his way towards his horse.

“So, you’re the one that sent the message, huh? Could have worded it better, in my opinion.” he asked, mounting his steed. Claude just smiled.

“Maybe.” he spoke, but Jeralt didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Listen kid, I dunno who you are, but other than the fact that you’re a student at the monastery, that’s all I’ve got. How the hell did you know that bandits were coming to your camp?” he interrogated, reluctantly reaching out a hand to Claude. He took it gratefully, being hoisted up into the saddle behind Jeralt.

“Call it intuition, if you will. ‘Fraid that’s the best answer you’ll get from me.” he answered, balancing himself as the mercenary spurred his horse into a gallop. “I just want to fix what went wrong.”

Jeralt didn’t respond, sensing a feeling of melancholy and regret from the teen sitting behind him. It was odd, seeing such a happy-go-lucky kid hold so much behind his smiles. They were so calculated and precise, each one set up ahead of time as if he had done it before. Sure, Byleth himself was an odd child growing up, but he was just emotionless. Held nothing in his eyes, had no heartbeat, no emotions.

This kid? With the yellow cape of the Golden Deer and emerald eyes, his skin tanner than his fellow mates? He was different. Perhaps similar to Byleth, in the fact that you couldn’t tell what he was feeling. While his own child never expressed them, this kid who balanced himself perfectly on his horse even at a gallop hid everything. Some would call it deception, but Jeralt preferred… suppression.

Yeah. Suppression seemed right.

Claude and Jeralt quickly caught up with Byleth, Dimitri, and Edelgard, who had seemed to be waiting for them on the outskirts of Remire Village. The archer dismounted the horse, giving a nod of thanks to Jeralt.

“There aren’t too many of them. This should be an easy task.” Dimitri spoke, surveying the battlefield and their enemies.

“Alright, let’s get this party started then. Don’t hesitate to kill, keep on your guard.” Claude muttered, before ignoring his teammates and running right into the fray. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pushed the pill into his mouth, keeping it in his cheek. He had a feeling that he’d need to use it.

“Hey- Claude!” Dimitri exclaimed, rushing in as well.

“Do they… usually do that?” Jeralt asked, and Edelgard shook her head. The look in her eyes wasn’t of worry, more so of satisfaction.

“Surprisingly no. This is what happens when you leave the three of us alone to fend for ourselves. Everything tactical just gets thrown down the drain.” she commented, being more careful than the other two as she readied her axe to fight.

“I see.”

The two boys made quick work of the bandits on the frontlines, Dimitri’s strength and Claude’s skillful thinking easily overtaking them. While the former resorted to knocking them out heavily, the latter wasn’t scared to send an arrow through their chests every once in awhile.

The mercenaries and Edelgard joined in, and it was clear to see who had more fighting experience between the bandits. While the princess was more careful, all the mercs ran right in without a care in the world. They had done this hundreds of times already, so this was just another little battle to add to their tally.

It was clear that the bandits weren’t expecting part of a mercenary group to join in on the battle, nor were they expecting the ferocity of the students. One by one, their numbers dwindled down to a mere dozen, including their leader Kostas.

“Damn mercenaries!” he yelled, infuriated by how their plan was failing. Claude took that as a sign to continue forward, sticking relatively close to Edelgard and Byleth. “You brats! I’m gonna kill you where you stand!”

With a warcry, he charged towards Edelgard and Claude, the fire in his eyes burning with anger. Pushing Claude behind her, Edelgard gripped her axe tight, knuckles turning white as she parried the blow.

Kostas’ strength was one not to be underestimated, and whilst the force had knocked him away, sending him to the ground, it also snapped Edelgard’s axe right in half, making it useless. She threw it aside with a click of her tongue.

Snapping out of his stupor, Kostas jumped back up onto his feet, his axe raised high above his head. “You’ll die!” he roared, sprinting right at Edelgard. Panic flooded her eyes, and she unsheathed her dagger as protection.

** _She’s vulnerable._ **

The wind of an arrow blew past her ear, and Edelgard gasped as it found its target, hitting Kostas right in the forehead. Blood trickled down his face as the bandit fell to the ground, his body unmoving and the light in his eyes gone. He was dead.

Her fingers trembled, and she slowly turned towards Claude, who still held his bow up. There was a smile of satisfaction on his face, almost unsettling.

“Thank you, Claude-”

Edelgard was cut off by a sharp pain in her gut, Claude’s shoulders pressed against hers. The smile on his face was no longer of satisfaction, but of insanity. Revenge glimmered in his eyes, unperturbed by the blood that poured out of the wound he had made as he withdrew his dagger from her body.

“Serves you right, Flame Emperor.” he hissed, watching as she struggled to stauch the bleeding. Why? How did he know? She hadn’t even made her move yet, so how could have Claude known already?

“H-How?” she whispered, struggling to stay on her feet and keep her eyes focused. 

“You end up killing so many people. Your own allies. You killed all my friends. How could you? How could you sacrifice so much just for a god damned crest system!” Claude roared. Rage radiated off of his body, and he trembled with anger. “You don’t deserve to live! You should have died during those crest experiments with your siblings, just as fate intended!”

Charging at Edelgard, Claude pushed her to the ground, stabbing her furiously. “Die! Just die already!” he cried, tears flooding his eyes as desperation took over. Her blood pooled on the ground, staining her pale white hair crimson. Exposed bone shone through missing chunks of flesh, her organs already beginning to spill out. 

A pair of arms grabbed him by the waist, forcefully pulling Claude away from Edelgard mutilated body. “Let me go!” he yelled, thrashing against their hold, his dagger slipping away onto the ground. “I’m not finished yet!”

“Keep still, kid!” Jeralt yelled, using one hand to bash him on the head. Claude snapped out of his daze, the adrenaline finally catching up to him. He kept still in Jeralt’s grasp.

“Claude von Riegan!” Alois yelled, his face stony as he stared the teen down. “How dare you.” the knight spat, disappointed.

A smile appeared on Claude’s face, his eyes void of anything. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you so serious, Alois.” he mused. “I always wondered what happened to you after I died. Knowing the princess, she probably killed you too." He let out a mirthless laugh.

“Brat, what kind of bullshit are you spewing?” Jeralt growled.

“You too, Jeralt. Byleth cried a lot when you died. Maybe don’t do that next time, alright?” he laughed.

“How do you know my name?” Byleth asked, having stepped towards them, giving Claude a little kick in the shin. He just looked up at him, hoping that his eyes would be able to convey everything.

“War does terrible things to you.”

With one last smile, Claude bit down hard on his pill, hearing the satisfying crack of glass as cyanide entered his system.

In just mere moments, he could feel his body beginning to shut down, the strength slowly fading from his body. Like a doll, he slipped out of Jeralt’s grasp, falling to the ground with a thump. He could see Dimitri in the distance, scarred from what he had just witnessed as tears trailed down his cheeks.

Slowly but surely, his conscious began to slip away, his heart beating slower and slower until it was no more.

It was worth it.

* * *

_ You fool! _

_ Did you really think you just run up and kill her like that? _

_ I know you have grudges, but you mustn’t act based on your urge for revenge and blood! _

_ Please, control yourself next time. _

_ This isn’t you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah claude just yeets edelgard on his first reset.... mans really pissed at the fact that she killed him last time huh
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	5. try again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in time he goes, to when he first woke up that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is really just... filler chapter
> 
> I didn't want to jump ahead too much with skips so there's only little bits of info that'll hint into later relationships and such but it's mainly just claude being sad
> 
> ignore. all mistakes thxs I struggled to write this one

** _Would you have ever wished for something else?_ **

_ Instead of just fulfilling my ambitions and dreams… I would have liked for us to stay as friends. Edelgard and Dimitri… both of them have had harsh lives. Unlike me, they can’t see their parents anymore, and their childhoods were much more tragic and scarring than mine. If I was given the opportunity, I would have liked to have become their friend back when we were children. Give them support in their time of need. If we were closer back then, we could have talked about our dreams and helped each other fulfill them, rather than going to war. Create a united Fodlan together. _

_ But I don’t think that would ever happen, regardless of our past. _

* * *

Claude woke to a throbbing headache, sweat soaking the bed sheets and dried tears on his cheeks. His throat felt like there was sandpaper grinding against it, and he felt the urge to vomit. A groan escaped his lips, and he shifted ever so slightly, causing him to freeze in his tracks. This didn’t feel like his room in the dormitories. There wasn’t the comforting smell of Almyran pine or the weight of books on his bed.

It smelt an awful lot like sterilizer with the hint of perfume.

The infirmary? Why was he here?

Claude’s eyes shot open, and he abruptly sat up, regretting the decision instantly as nausea flooded him. As the dizziness slowly ebbed away, he took in his surroundings. He was back again. Five years younger once more, his hands looking so much softer and smaller than they were during the war.

Garreg Mach was still here. His housemates weren’t dead. There was no mutilated Edelgard. No pill in his pocket. Then… was it all just another dream? Another horrid nightmare, so lucid and realistic? He could remember warm blood soaking his hands and the bitter taste of cyanide sitting on his tongue.

But that wasn’t a dream. All of that was real, right?

Claude was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of heels clicking on the monastery floor, and he quickly laid back down, feigning sleep. They entered the room, pausing for a few moments before walking towards him. A cool hand placed itself on his forehead, and he could hear a sigh.

“Still not awake, huh?” He recognized the voice as Manuela's. “Perhaps it’d be best of he didn’t attend the training today. I’ll have to report this to Seteth and the Archbishop.” The professor took her leave, allowing Claude to “awaken” once more.

As soon as her footsteps had completely disappeared, he quickly rose, swinging his legs off of the infirmary bed and getting up. Another bout of dizziness sparked, but Claude ignored it to the best of his abilities and made his way out. Muscle memory began to bring him to his room, his thoughts running wild.

If he pushed through all of his memories, going back into those that he didn’t want to see ever again, he was back in the war. All of his housemates killed. He was the only one standing in Edelgard’s way. He had died by her hand, before waking up at the monastery. He had brutally killed her before killing himself.

Claude could go through each memory and recite all the details if needed. How many of his own soldiers that had died, the dirt and grit on everyone’s faces, how his own eyes went from bright to dull. They were irrelevant details, yes, but if he was able to remember them so vividly, then wasn’t that proof that everything was real?

Then again, people had lucid dreams all the time, and some of them could remember those details as if they were burned into their minds. Maybe if he said something or brought up a secret that he learnt during the war to one of his housemates? If he was right, then that meant that everything was real. If it wasn’t, then it was just a terrifyingly detailed dream.

Arriving at his room, he walked in, the smell of Almyran pine flooding his nose and calming his nerves. Everything was just how it was back then. Despite having missed this sight for years, it felt bittersweet.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Claude began to go through his past morning routine. Change into his uniform, tidy up his room a tad, before grabbing his bow and quiver to head out. This time, however, an extra little step was added. Digging around through the corner of his room, where all of his little experiments sat, he found his pill once more and slipped it back into his pocket. Much better.

Exiting the dorms, he found himself back outside. He didn’t have the time to look around as he was coming from the infirmary, too busy with his own thoughts to even realize.

“Claude! You’re finally awake!” a voice chimed, and he looked in front of him to see Hilda, a worried look on her face. “Glad to see that you’re okay now.” Claude stared at her, confused. “Oh right, if you’re wondering, I heard you yelling in your room this morning and saw you writhing around with a horrible fever. I had Raphael carry you to the infirmary.” she explained.

“Oh, thanks.” he answered, giving her a small smile. “Do you know where everyone is?” he asked, having noticed that there weren’t many people out.

“The bell for lunch break just rang a few minutes ago, so they’re probably all at the dining hall. I was just about to head on over as well. Come along with me! You slept through breakfast, I’m sure you must be starving!” she cheerily spoke, skipping over to hook her arm with Claude’s.

The two of them walked in a comfortable silence, to which Claude was thankful for. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, nor to explain why he was yelling in his sleep. It wasn’t like he could just casually say that he was from the future, and was experiencing this for the third time. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if that “future” was real.

An idea sparked in his head, and Claude turned towards Hilda, tapping her forearm. “Hilda?” he asked, making her shift her attention towards him and hum lightly.

“You like Marianne, don’t you?”

Hilda stared at Claude for a few moments, her face slowly turning red as she realized what he had just said. “C-Claude! How did you- I never-!” she sputtered, covering her face in embarrassment. He chuckled, watching as she desperately tried to calm herself down.

That was proof enough for him to believe had he had just went back in time again. He had only figured out about their little thing the third year into the war, where Hilda had panicked and almost gone feral seeing Marianne take a blow to her flank. The two of them had embraced each other for a long time after they retreated to safer ground, Hilda sobbing into Marianne’s shoulder and muttering something about how scared she was.

Claude couldn’t forget how hysterical she was when Marianne died. Cradled her body in her arms, ignoring the blood that was soaking into her clothes as she cried to the Goddess to “bring her back.” She was never really the same after that. No one would ever be.

But it was okay now. They were alive and well, and not broken from war. Not yet lovers, but they’d realize it soon.

Being back in time was a bit… odd. He wasn’t used to seeing their young faces all over again, having to deal with different personalities. Back then, they were naive and unprepared to fight, barely able to deal with a group of bandits together. But five years later? They would take down armies of men in groups of two or three.

Claude presumed he was in some sort of time loop, until he “won” whatever the mysterious voice wanted him to win. He had no idea what his end goal was, but he assumed that he’d be sent back over and over again until he achieved it.

The voice had talked to him again after he had promptly killed himself. Claude couldn’t exactly remember what it had said to him, but there was one phrase that resounded in his head over and over again.

** _This isn’t you._ **

He assumed that the voice was talking about how he haphazardly stabbed Edelgard over and over again. Whilst it did feel amazingly euphoric to see the monster that had killed all of his friends dead by his hand, there was a twinge of regret in his heart at the moment. The Claude five years ago was a tactical man, who preferred to find ways around killing. And even if he did kill, it was swift and painless. Someone who ran off of revenge and a thirst for blood wasn’t him. Even he knew that. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to do such a thing. Perhaps it was because visions of his dead friends still lingered in his mind. Or maybe it was something else.

“Uhh, hello? Earth to Claude? You there?” A hand waved back and forth in front of him, and he snapped out of his stupor. “Oh thank Goddess, I was worried you were going to pass out.” Hilda sighed, leading him into the dining hall. As he looked around he could see most of the students at their respective house tables, eagerly chatting among themselves. Edelgard in a engaged conversation with Dorothea, and Dimitri having a small spat with Sylvain.

Just like how things were supposed to be.

There were no traces of war in anyone’s faces. Pure innocent minds that had probably never had to kill hundreds at once, seeing people they once knew now as enemies. They probably never had blood seep through their gloves, staining their uniform and have it stuck under their nails.

Hilda guided him towards their table, sitting him down next to Ignatz. “You stay put right here, Claude. I’ll bring you your food.” she spoke, leaving him to fend for himself with the others.

“How are you feeling, Claude?” Ignatz asked, “Raphael had told us about what happened this morning.”

“Oh! Uh,” Claude paused, quickly thinking of some sort of excuse. “I wasn’t feeling too well when I went to bed yesterday, I guess I must have caught something. I feel much better now, so you don’t need to worry about me.” he answered, giving a small smile.

They all seemed to buy his story, giving him small words of consolation and comfort. Luckily for him, none of them pushed further on the subject, continuing to chat and eat.

Hilda returned soon afterwards with their plates of food, beginning to ease their group into another conversation, and Claude let himself free. Even if it was only for a short while, he forgot about the war, forgot about the memories, and acted like the 17 year old he was supposed to be.

His happiness lasted all throughout their break time, up until he had parted ways with the rest of the group to go take a short walk around the monastery. It settled in slowly, making the shadow of a smile disappear from his lips and his glowing eyes dull once more. He barely remembered what it felt like to laugh and be so carefree.

He hated it. He hated how shallow and empty his body felt, how he couldn’t even go through a whole day without faint voices and memories of war reminding him of where he came from and what was at risk. He just wanted to live normally, not be stuck in a time loop. He was 17, Sothis damn it. He wasn’t supposed to have experienced what it was like to kill yet. The thought of killing wasn’t supposed to excite him.

Claude’s hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about this? Why couldn’t he just drink a potion that would remove all his memories? He’d rather be hit by Thoron a hundred times than live through this war-stained life for years.

“I hate you.” he bitterly whispered, his words directed at no one in particular.

Tears pricking his eyes, Claude stalked towards the stables, arriving at the last stall nearest to the fishing hole. He took a deep breath, calming himself down to a more manageable state before letting himself in.

At the sound of Claude’s footsteps, the wyvern inside lifted its head up, glossy eyes giving him a look over. A low, whining rumble erupted from its throat, seeming to be pleased that the house leader had come to visit.

He couldn’t help but smile as he approached, the wyvern bumping its nose against his stomach before moving to press its head against his body. “Yes, hello to you too, Noctis. Have you been a good boy? I’m sure you have.” Claude softly spoke, pressing a hand to his snout. He huffed in response, breathing in his scent contently.

Noctis was one of the few wyverns at the monastery. He was still young, but would be moved to the aviary where the other wyverns and pegasi were once he was older. took a special liking to Claude ever since the half-Almyran had arrived. Very few were given the privilege of riding him, especially seeing how the wyvern had a tendency to buck off riders he didn’t particularly like.

Back in Almyra, Claude was taught that wyverns were special animals. They could sense the feelings of their rider, and as such rarely accepted more than one rider at a time. A strong bond had to be built for a wyvern to fully submit to their owner. Despite having never met prior, Noctis bowed down to Claude immediately.

Gently pushing the wyvern’s head away from him, Claude made his way closer, sitting down on the freshly changed bedding and leaning against his side. In response, Noctis let out another content rumble, his tail wrapping around himself and his body curling inward in order to provide more warmth. Humming contently, Claude closed his eyes.

“Life is so unfair, Noctis.” he whispered, gently stroking the wyvern’s tail. “I’m already so, so tired. I’ve barely even gotten past a single day. Everyone is so happy right now. Why couldn’t have it stayed like this?”

Noctis let out a grumble.

“I know, I know. But don’t you think it’s weird? Me, of all things. Not Dimitri. Byleth doesn’t count, I know that he has some damn time powers because of the Goddess or what not. Hmm… Oh goodness, what if he was the one that sent me back? Do you think he has the ability to do such a thing?”

A sigh escaped his lips, and Claude flopped to his side, letting his head rest on Noctis’ neck. “Will I be able to do this?” he whispered, feeling the dread crawl up his spine, resting itself onto his shoulders. Instead of letting out a huff of encouragement, Noctis curled in further, enveloping Claude in his warmth as if he were a mother to her young. Comforted by the steady thump of the wyvern’s heart, Claude allowed himself to drift off into dreamland.

* * *

Dimitri was busy checking up on his fellow housemates, ensuring they were ready for their little trip into Adrestian territory. They were all about to leave shortly, going to meet up with Rhea at the audience chamber for a short briefing beforehand.

“Dimitri!” The prince turned around to see Hilda, her pigtails swaying as she ran over to him in a rush. “Have you seen Claude anywhere?” she asked, worry in her eyes. “I haven’t seen him since lunch, and I have no idea where he is!”

“I have not, I’m afraid. That is indeed a predicament.” he answered, thinking about where his fellow house leader could have gone. “Go prepare for our leave. I’ll go and look for you.”

“Thank you so much, Dimitri!” Hilda cried in relief. “He’s been acting a bit odd today, I’m not sure what’s gotten into him. I’ll be back shortly.” Giving a quick bow, she left to her room, leaving the prince to start his search.

Claude was a bit of an… enigma to Dimitri. He didn’t know much about his background, other than the fact that his mother was from House Riegan, explaining his legitimacy to be heir. He never talked about his childhood, but Dimitri had his suspicions. Claude wasn’t one for religion, especially those of Fodlan. He’d often get a few places from Faerghus and Adrestia confused, and he had seen him carry around ‘The History of Fodlan’ back when they first arrived at the monastery. If anything, judging from appearance alone, Dimitri would have thought that Claude was from Brigid or Almyra. And yet, the latter would continue to insist that he was Fodlan-born.

Dimitri soon found himself in front of the stables, having followed his gut feeling on Claude’s whereabouts. The teen treated Noctis as if it were his own pet, so Dimitri assumed that he’d be with the wyvern.

Pushing the door open, Dimitri let himself in, looking around for any signs of the Riegan. To his amusement, there sat Claude, sleeping soundly against Noctis’ body. He had to admit it was quite an adorable sight, yet he was somewhat concerned. Was Claude always this… small? Did he always look this fragile?

As he approached the wyvern, its eyes opened abruptly, startling Dimitri and causing him to stumble backwards. Noctis glared at the prince, curling his tail around Claude even more to protect him from what he thought was an intruder.

“I mean you no harm.” he whispered, holding his hand out. “I am only here to retrieve Claude.” Lifting his head, Noctis butted his snout against Dimitri’s hand, as if to verify if he was telling the truth. After a few moments, the wyvern huffed, reluctantly uncurling his tail and allowing Dimitri to walk over to Claude.

“Claude? Wake up, it’s time for us to head out.” Dimitri whispered, having crouched down next to him to tap his shoulder lightly. It didn’t take long for him to wake from his slumber, a grumble emitting from his throat as his eyelids slowly opened.

“Mm? Dima? Why are you here? When did you take the time to cut your hair?” Claude muttered, reaching out to brush back Dimitri’s bangs from his eyes. Midway through the action, he froze, eyes open wide. “O-Oh! I’m sorry about that. I, uh, was still half asleep. I must have mistook this for my dream.” he stammered, pushing himself off the ground in a hurry. “We should hurry, lest we be late for the briefing.” With a quick nod of thanks, Claude practically ran out of the stables, leaving Dimitri alone. Noctis grumbled, disappointed that Claude didn’t say goodbye to him.

“...Dima?”

* * *

Claude ran to his room, his face burning red and his dignity absolutely destroyed. Curse his stupid dreams, curse Dimitri for being the one to find him, and curse the fact that he stupidly mixed up his dream world for reality. Dima? Really? He really had to go out and say the one nickname he wasn’t supposed to say nor know. Goddess, Claude was such an idiot.

The urge to lock himself in his room and sit there to self-loath was very tempting, but he wasn’t Bernadetta. He didn’t have the time. There was a future he had to achieve. Snatching his bow and quiver off of his table, Claude grabbed a few more random things he noticed and shoved them into a pack.

Running off into the audience chamber, he had barely managed to make it on time, slyly joining his group just as Rhea began her briefing. “You will be having some small training exercises outside the monastery, in the outskirts of the Adrestian Empire. Plus, your new professor is waiting at the nearby village. You will be escorting them back. May the Goddess smile upon you.” she smiled, bowing to everyone before taking her leave with Seteth on her heels.

New… professor? She sure as hell wasn’t talking about Byleth. Alois was the one that recommended him to Rhea, and he hadn’t even met the man yet.

_ “You idiot!” _ his thoughts chided. _ “Don’t you remember? It’s the coward that ran away!” _

Oh. Right. They were such an irrelevant character that Claude forgot all about them. Oh well, not like they’d become relevant anyways. If anything, they probably died to a bandit. Worthless.

With the click of his tongue, Claude followed his house members outside, lagging behind in order to properly clear his mind. And to avoid Dimitri. There was no way he’d face him anytime soon.

What was he to do? Would he try to follow what he did last time, actively send a message to Jeralt and earn his trust? Or would he let things play out like they were supposed to, and not move a single muscle? He supposed the latter was the best option, but having to sit around and pretend to be oblivious to the ambush was painful. Ideally, Claude would have loved to run and kill all of them before the mess would start, but that would mess with the future. Plus, that was a lot of work. His absence and blood all over his clothes would end up with lots of questioning.

A sigh escaped his lips. He would deal with it when they got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really wish I could update more often!! but school is draining the free time I have, plus ideas aren't sparking atm so :(
> 
> next chapter though, hopefully things get a little spicier heehee
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	6. swirling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything playing out exactly the same, something unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops its been a whole month since i updated sorryyyy i hate school i'm failing math
> 
> but here u go... hopefully this is spicy enough to satiate y'all

Gently, the fire continued to burn and crackle in the background, the stars glowing amidst the night sky. With his hand outstretched in front of his eyes, bits of magic sparked at his fingertips before dying out quickly. A sigh escaped Claude’s lips, leaving him feeling worn out and fatigued.

Back again.

Everything had played out the same as it had last time. They trekked to the outskirts of Remire Village, blissfully unaware of the future events that would transpire as they set up camp for the night. Claude didn’t share a tent with Dimitri this time, opting to share with Linhardt to avoid the prince of Faerghus. (He knew the crest scholar was a heavy sleeper, so he could scheme without any worries.)

A few of the knights had gone to retrieve their new professor in the village while the students were busy putting their tents up. As much as Claude would have loved to have tagged along, he figured it was too much effort to purposely bump into Jeralt and his mercenaries in the village. He’d let things play out on their own. Besides, he had other important things to work on.

And apparently, one of those important things was to teach himself reason magic.

Claude wasn’t sure why he had decided to start learning it. He had always been interested from Lysithea’s mutterings, and had occasionally read up on it in the library whenever he was bored. It didn’t seem terribly hard. It required an extreme amount of focus in energy and a very high comprehension in magic theory. The latter was easy enough, - he had been drilled about it back in Almyra by his tutors - but the former was still something Claude was working on. Annette or Lysithea seemed like good people to go to for help, but he didn’t want to cause unnecessary suspicion because of his sudden interest.

The knights that were currently on night duty weren’t distracted by Claude’s antics. While they were concerned with his inability to sleep that night, they passed it off as stress from his studies and let him be. He wasn’t going to do any harm, after all.

Claude had quickly figured out that sleep wasn’t going to be easy anymore. With the war constantly plaguing him, he’d always end up waking with a start, barely less than a few hours from when he had fallen asleep. Seeing how it happened twice in a row already, it would definitely continue. As such, he was already devising a concoction to create for himself to drink whenever rest was desired. He wouldn’t be able to take it daily because of the concentration of the dosage, but it would make do for now.

He scoffed, pulling the corners of his blanket around his shoulders tightly. He was becoming just like Dimitri, wasn’t he? Plagued by voices and dreams, slowly becoming unstable. How ironic. That was the one thing that Claude had hoped he’d never degrade into.

The soft clinking of armour slowly approached, and Claude turned to see Alois taking a seat next to him. “I’m surprised you haven’t gone back to bed yet, Claude.” he spoke, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Is there something the matter?”

A small smile on his face, Claude shook his head as he stared into the fire. “No, nothing of the sort.” he answered, watching sparks fly as the smoke rose into the air. “I've been having a few small nightmares of late, and they’ve been keeping me up.” he explained.

“If you don’t mind me asking?...” Alois trailed off, failing to notice how Claude’s eyes dulled, his smile becoming little more than a shadow.

“War.”

He turned to look at Claude, who continued to stare at the campfire. “I dream of war.” he continued, “A bloody war that rage on for five years. Where students of the houses fight against each other. I dream of traumatized young adults, of those betrayed by their own nation and left to die.” At this point, Claude wasn’t able to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. He was well aware of how much he was speaking of, but he didn’t want it to end. His mind craved someone to confide in, to lighten the burden on his shoulders.

This wasn’t the right time.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble on so much.” A smile plastered onto his face, he stood up from his spot, merely giving a small wave before retreating to his tent. Sure, it might have been a bit rude to just leave Alois without a proper “goodnight”, but Claude knew that the situation would have only gotten worse had he stayed.

A suffocating feeling began to grow in his chest, making his heart clench and his throat close up on him. Goddess, what the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t just casually throw around the words of war like it was nothing. Just because he had experienced such a thing didn’t mean that he could talk about it all willy nilly.

He wasn’t supposed to speak about it. He had to suppress it. Even if it made him feel like there were bugs crawling under his flesh and his head about to explode, making him want to rip his skin off his body. All Claude had to do was pick it up, stuff it in a box, and lock it up tight. Throw the key away and hide the box deep within the recesses of his mind.

Taking many deep breaths, he began to calm himself down. In and out, in and out, until he no longer felt like he was being drowned in a sea of darkness. He focused on the present, the shuffle of the knights outside, the soft snores of Linhardt, the chirping of the crickets. Soon enough, Claude was at peace once more, his heartbeat lulling himself into a calmer state of mind. Every beat reminded him that he was still alive. That he was given such a chance to redeem himself.

For awhile, Claude laid in his bedding, simply staring at the roof of his tent. He wanted to fall asleep so badly, finally get some rest for his horribly fatigued mind. If he thought back on it, the last time he got a proper night’s rest was… just before Gronder. Ever since the war started, he was holed up in his office making strategies and war plans, fighting and healing from injuries. There wasn’t necessarily time to sleep unless he passed out from exhaustion.

Claude knew what exhaustion felt like, and while his body wasn’t necessarily feeling that way, his mind certainly was.

“I feel like an old man.” he whispered to himself, letting out a small chuckle. “Goddess, me as an old man? Doubt I’d live that long.”

Sitting up, Claude looked around, bored out of his mind. Grabbing the lantern that sat in the middle of the tent, he stared at it. Well, might as well give the magic one more try, no?

Carefully, he focused all of his might to his fingertip, willing it to form. He could feel magic sparking to life, the scent of ashes tickling his nose. A small fire suddenly burst to life, burning fervently above his skin. Excitement filled his entire body, and Claude guided the fire to the lantern, watching the flames catch on the wick and light it up.

He let the flame on his finger continue to burn, watching the lantern glow brightly. He had done that. And to think that all it took was a little bit of reading and practice. Filled with adrenaline, he blew out the flame in the lantern, relighting it over and over again.

Oh, how happy he felt.

* * *

Dawn approached the camp, the sun not even beginning to waken as students got out of their tents with drowsy eyes and mussed hair. They were supposed to train today, prepare a small mock battle with groups of five going against each other in the forest.

By the time Dimitri and Edelgard had woken, still dreary from sleep as they exited their tents with their weapons in hand, Claude was already up and at it. He sat by the fire, whittling an arrow from a thin branch he had found on the ground to pass time. When the two of them approached, he turned around so abruptly to greet them, as if he already knew that they were behind him.

“Good morning, your highnesses!” he smiled, waving at the two of them. “Did you get a good night’s rest?” he asked, getting up from his spot.

“I got a sufficient amount of rest.” Dimitri answered.

“And I as well. What about you, Claude?” Edelgard asked, the three of them moving away from the fire and to another clearing of the camp.

“Eh, I got enough rest. Was a bit too caught up with some readings, I completely lost track of time.” he answered, the lies he fabricated flowing so smoothly against his lips. “Just look at the dark circles under my eyes!” he whined, sulking. “I can't even think straight. I almost walked out without my boots!-”

Claude stopped himself, suddenly freezing in place. Confused, Edelgard and Dimitri watched as the smile on his face quickly faded into a grim line. Spinning on his heel, Claude reached out in front of his face, seeming to grasp at the air.

Only to have the head of an arrow bite into his palm, having stopped the trajectory to his face inches away from his forehead.

“Claude! Are you alright?” Dimitri exclaimed, staring at the blood that trailed down his wrist.

“Alert the knights,” he muttered. “We’re under attack.”

“What? What do you mean?-”

“Do it, Dimitri.” Claude growled, nocking the arrow that had almost killed him in his bow, shooting it back into the forest. At the sound of a gurgled cry, the prince ran immediately.

Bandits burst out of the forest on all sides of the camp, their weapons poised and ready to kill. Claude stared at one of the men in front of them, seeming to evaluate and look down upon them. With a hand, he grabbed hold of Edelgard, pushing her in front.

“You can take care of him.” he muttered. “I’ll go help with those on the other side of camp.” Before Edelgard could retaliate, Claude sprinted off, not even bothering to look behind him. As he crossed the chaos of students and knights scrambling to get their weapons, he ran right into Mercedes, almost knocking her off her feet. Quick reflexes kicked in as he grabbed her arm, helping to steady her balance.

“Sorry about that.” he spoke, about to continue running when he realized that he had smeared blood all over her uniform. “Oh, and sorry for the, uh, blood. On your uniform. Didn’t mean for that to happen.” he added.

“Oh, are you injured?” she asked, swiftly grabbing Claude’s wrist before he could flee. With a quick wave of light magic, she had healed the cuts on his palm. “There. And it’s fine, this sort of thing will happen all the time in the future, won’t it?” The kind smile on her face made the corners of his lips rise, and he nodded.

“Right. You make a fine healer, Mercedes. Go back up some of the younger students or the knights, I’m sure they’ll need it.” Nodding, she left to do so, allowing Claude to continue on his path.

Very conveniently, there weren’t many bandits on the other side of camp, so Claude took the opportunity to run into the forest. He was doing exactly as he had done the first time around, excluding a few moments of his intution and memory kicking in. He’d flee in the direction of Remire, have Edelgard and Dimitri follow him, and meet with Jeralt’s mercenary crew.

“Claude! What are you doing?”

_ Ahh, there’s the prince. _

“Really? Your plan was to run this entire time? I should have known.”

_ And there’s the princess. _

Plastering a grin on his lips, Claude turned to meet their eyes. “Ah, so you caught me in my brilliant plan! Should have figured it was gonna be a lot harder to shake you two off.”

“If you’re wondering, your so-called brilliant plan managed to attract the attention of all the bandits. They’re following us.” Dimitri added, catching up with Claude’s pace.

“Oh really! Perfect!” he chimed, focusing on the path ahead of them, turning left or right whenever needed. “That means that everyone else at camp is safe, then?” he asked, cutting off Edelgard before she could even speak. Having realized his motives, she sighed, nodding.

“Yes, that should be the case.”

A satisfied smile on his face, Claude led the house leaders into a clearing, running straight into the outskirts of Remire Village. Though suspicious, they followed him, observing as they came to a stop near a group of people.

“Excuse me!” Claude yelled, catching their attention. “You guys are mercs, right? Mind sending for your captain or something?” he asked. Though most of them scoffed at the sight of three teenagers dressed in such fancy uniforms, one of them nodded, running off into the building nearby.

After a few moments, the mercenary came back, Jeralt and Byleth in tow. Claude’s eyes narrowed at Byleth, watching as his eyes evaluated each one of them. They settled on Claude for an unnecessarily long amount of time. Sure he didn’t remember… right?

“Please, forgive our intrusion.” Dimitri started, snapping Claude back to reality. “We would not bother you if the situation weren’t dire.”

_ Ahh, gotta love this deja vu. _

Their little conversation with Jeralt continued, Claude chiming in at the right times with his scripted words. Once they had agreed to help out, Jeralt sent Byleth to rally some of their men while he went to get his horse. After some quick preparations, they made their way to the village entrance, Byleth in the front and Jeralt behind the house leaders.

As soon as they made it to the outskirts of the village, a bandit burst out from the forest, charging right at them.

In the blink of an eye, Byleth had unsheathed his sword, slicing the man’s neck in one clean sweep. He calmly flicked the blood off, continuing to walk as the body fell to the ground, blood seeping into the dirt. Jeralt didn’t fail to notice how the students had reacted, having looked at them during the entire situation.

The girl with hair as white as snow and eyes that shone like wisteria blossoms was typical. She flinched, her brow furrowing as she was unable to hide the grimace on her face. Unexperienced, but hid her fear well. The taller boy of the two, his hair blond and eyes like the ocean had tightened the grip on his lance, his gaze darkening. It seemed like he had experienced death before.

But the other boy, the one with tan skin and tousled hair, with eyes that reflected the forest leaves. He hadn’t moved at all. He didn’t flinch, didn’t tighten his grip around his bow, didn’t even blink. He just watched quietly. Hell, Jeralt could had sworn that the boy had scoffed at the body, the corners of his lips rising. As if he had been expecting it the entire time. He had killed, and had no remorse for such a thing.

Claude was the first to continue walking, following right behind Byleth’s footsteps. It was just another death. To him, another unknown soldier dead. There was no point to dwell. In the war, there was no time to grieve or to regret. Identify your dead men to give them proper burials. Burn the others. Continue fighting.

Seeing the flutter of Claude’s cape ahead of them, Edelgard and Dimitri quickly followed, trying to calm themselves. They were still soft and fragile, Claude remembered, not used to the harsh realities of the game of life and death.

“Do not show sorrow.” Claude muttered to them. “It was either them or us. If I were you, I’d value your own life first. It’s inevitable.” Turning to them, he smiled softly. “You’ll be okay. These are strong mercenaries.”

_ “...Huh.” _ Jeralt thought to himself. _ “What an interesting kid.” _

Having reached the clearing just outside of Remire, the mercenaries quickly spread themselves along their side of the battlefield, awaiting instructions. Byleth was once again in the lead.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for help, brats.” Jeralt commented. “And don’t feel the need to kill. Incapacitating them is fine as well. Us mercs can take care of the rest.” he explained, and the house leaders nodded. “Alright men! Let’s get a move on!”

A wave of cheers resounded through the battlefield, before all the mercenaries began their charge. Byleth followed them, as silent as ever. “Well, let’s not wait, shall we?” Claude smiled, before running off to fight as well.

“C-Claude! Hold up!” Dimitri exclaimed, running to follow him as well.

Bow and arrow in his hands and ready to aim, Claude trailed behind Byleth, watching for moments to help out. Even though it wasn’t necessary at all - Byleth took down all of the bandits with ease, - there were a few times when he’d duck down to avoid a blow, letting Claude send an arrow to finish them off.

The first time he did so, the arrowhead embedding itself right in the middle of the bandit’s forehead, Byleth quickly stopped his swing. He turned towards Claude, staring him down. The two of them stood there for a few moments, not saying a single word to each other before nodding.

As if their actions were practiced and rehearsed many times, Byleth and Claude fell into a dance, perfectly in sync. It was a bit hard for Claude to read his movements, as he hadn’t fought with Byleth by his side before. However, he knew the professor’s fighting style, could predict what he would do next, and work accordingly. They swept through the bandits’ ranks with ease.

Jeralt had finished running his lance through another bandit when his eyes had noticed the scene before him. His son working together with the boy from earlier, watching as arrow after arrow hit their mark. He hated how his assumptions were right about the kid. He was still young, but already had the stone-faced warrior within him that resembled the war-scarred men in his mercenary group. The kids and teens that joined his little gang were those with harsh upbringings. They weren’t coddled as a baby and fed with a silver spoon. It was a necessity to kill in order to survive. Byleth was no exception. But this kid was different. He was nobility, that was certain. He had to have been fed kind words as a child, protected by his mother and father and taught how to be a noble. Nobility didn’t learn to kill so… emotionlessly. When Jeralt looked around, he noticed that the other two of the kids were taking care not to kill, gritting their teeth whenever they saw one of his men do the deed instead. They were like two sides of a coin.

God, he was going to have an aneurysm trying to figure out this enigma of a kid.

Shortly after they joined forces, Byleth had separated from Claude. A bandit had snuck up behind the latter, forcing him to unsheathe his sword to parry the blow. The former had ran ahead, leaving Claude to fight alone.

“Wow, thanks a lot, Teach.” he grumbled, struggling to keep a hold on his bow as he pushed against the bandit with his sword. Using his clumsiness, the bandit kicked Claude back, taking a swing at his torso. He managed to avoid getting cut in half, the large broadsword taking a long, shallow hit along his side instead. Wincing, Claude quickly raised his arm, slashing their neck and feeling blood spray all over his face. Ignoring the pain, he continued on, running back towards Byleth’s location.

“You’ll die!”

Gritting his teeth, Claude pushed his legs to go faster, sheathing his sword and nocking an arrow in his bow. He was aware that he wouldn’t get there unlike last time, but he already knew that Byleth would be there on time to parry the blow.

As he neared, Claude watched as Byleth ran in between them, shielding the princess with his body as Kostas swung his axe down.

Wait, what?

Every muscle in his body froze, only able to stare as rusted metal cut into flesh, a pained scream on the edge of Byleth’s tongue. What was going on? Wasn’t he supposed to block it with his sword? This- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Did he do something wrong? Surely not, right? He had followed everything like it had happened the first time, so there was no way that Claude could have done something to affect Byleth.

As if the goddess herself had willed it, Claude was suddenly hit with a pang of vertigo, pain pulsing at his head as it grasped his brain, squeezing it tight. It was like time had stopped, his breath stilling and his heart seizing to beat. The world came to a complete halt.

And then, he fell back into reality.

Claude found himself a few paces back from where he had stopped, Byleth still alive and rushing towards Edelgard once more. This time, he had pulled out his sword, parrying the blow and sending Kostas flying on his back.

All he could do was watch. For one moment, Claude had watched Byleth die in front of him, and the next, he was alive and well. He knew it wasn’t a hallucination. Everything had played out exactly like before, back when life was new to him.

Forcingly, he willed his legs to move, jogging over to Edelgard and Byleth, Dimitri on his heels. “Hey, over here!” he called out, gathering their attention as the two of them approached.

“Claude, are you alright?” Dimitri asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “There is blood all over you.”

“Huh? Oh, yes. I’m alright, this isn’t mine.” he lied, trying to wipe off the bandit’s blood with his sleeves. He only made it worse, smearing it all over his face. “How about you? Any injuries?”

“None. And you, Edelgard?”

“I’m quite alright.” she answered. “I owe my thanks to this mercenary.” Gesturing to Byleth, he simply nodded.

“Byleth, was it? Jeralt mentioned your name. He’s your father, correct?” Claude questioned, and he answered with yet another nod. “I see. Makes sense that you’d be excellent in combat, with such a renowned man as your dad.”

“You shouldn’t lie about injuries.” he spoke, completely changing the topic. Confused, the house leaders furrowed their brows, wondering what he was talking about. In response, Byleth pointed at Claude’s torso. “If you leave that for too long, it’ll get infected.”

Surprised, Claude quickly placed a hand over his wound, feeling his blood seep onto his fingers. “I’ll be fine.” he replied, gently applying pressure. “I’ve had worse.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, being tied to a horse and dragged around as a child certainly hurt much more than a mere cut to his side. Plus, if you accounted for the war, then this little wound was like a paper cut compared to all the injuries he had received back then.

“The Knights of Seiros are here! We’ll terrorize you for harming our students!”

_ Ah, right on time. _

With a few knights, Alois approached their group, observing the situation. Before he could begin to speak, Dimitri quickly butted in. “Alois, do you have any healers with you? I’m afraid Claude is hurt.” he explained, and said man nodded, waving over a bishop. They made quick work of Claude’s wound, and he gave his thanks as soon as they were done. He’d have to ask for a new uniform when they got back.

Silently, Claude watched the situation unfold in front of him. Alois was trying to convince Jeralt to come back to the monastery with them. When Byleth was asked who he was, he responded with, “I’m a bandit,” making Alois laugh heartily. Seemed like he still had his blunt humour. They all decided to head back to Remire, Jeralt reluctantly agreeing to follow along. While waiting for the mercenaries to pack up their things, Byleth approached the three house leaders to waste time and shirk his share of work.

Right on cue, Edelgard and Dimitri began to speak, both of them wanting Byleth’s strength for themselves. As much as Claude didn’t want to talk, still feeling nauseous and dizzy, he recited his lines perfectly. Even with the smile on his face, Claude couldn’t focus on any of the words that were being spoken, nor could he focus on anything around him. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in his ears, his brain being squeezed tightly once more.

“...So, capable stranger, let’s get right to it. Where does your allegiance lie?” he asked, straining his ears to hear what Byleth’s answer would be. So far, Byleth had spoken that he was from the Empire, and as such followed that path. Claude figured that it would be the same situation.

“The Adrestian Empire.”

_ Damn. _

Edelgard was pleased at the answer, and while Dimitri accepted the decision, Claude was visibly frustrated. It looked like everything would be the same as before. Byleth noticed the sudden change in demeanour, looking over at him. Poor Claude couldn’t even tell that their gazes had met, white spots clouding his vision and blurring his surroundings.

He assumed that Alois had come over, seeing a blob of grey approach them and wave them away from Byleth. Being only able to nod, Claude pushed his legs forward, following them to the best of his abilities.

As soon as they were out of sight from Byleth’s gaze, he collapsed on the ground.

“Claude!” Dimitri exclaimed, quickly rushing to his side to check on him. Luckily, the Riegan woke up immediately, slowly pushing himself off the ground.

“Ah, sorry.” he muttered, struggling to keep his bearings straight. “Just felt a little dizzy. Guess it was a lot worse than I thought it was.”

“Hilda had told me that you weren’t feeling well this morning. Perhaps it would have been better for you to stay back at the monastery. Here, let me help.” the prince offered. As much as he didn’t want to depend on Dimitri so much, Claude accepted his help in getting up. The former insisted that he’d be used as support, letting the latter use him as a guide to walk.

Goddess, was this how Byleth felt every time he used a divine pulse? How the hell did he deal with this all the time? For Sothis sake, he wasn’t even sure if this was a divine pulse to begin with, but he could only speculate that it was. The whole going back in time a few seconds prior? Sure felt right.

Trekking through the forest, they returned to camp safely, all of their housemates fretting over their leaders and questioning the sudden appearance of a few dozen mercenaries. The Golden Deers were careful with Claude, having been told by Dimitri about his condition. Leonie had briefly left, coming back with a wet towel to help clean the blood off his face.

“Are you sure that you’re alright, Claude? You look a bit pasty.” Lysithea commented, looking over him with a scrutinizing eye.

“Please, never use that word.” Claude groaned, finally able to hear properly. “The word “pasty” is something I don’t want to hear come from anyone’s mouth.” he joked, making a few smiles form. “But yes, I’m alright. Feeling better than I was 10 minutes ago, if anything. As soon as we get back to the monastery, however, I’m taking a nice long nap.”

After plenty of reassuring and convincing that he’d be okay to be left alone, Claude was finally given some breathing room. He was forced to sit and watch everyone pack up camp, strict orders from Alois.

Byleth. Sothis. Divine pulses. A myriad of mysteries he had yet to figure out. Claude didn’t know much about Byleth, considering the fact that the professor was busy with the Black Eagles before becoming his enemy. The main information that he had managed to gather during his first run was that Byleth had some strange powers to turn back time.

He had walked in on Edelgard and Byleth having a discussion in the training grounds, whispering to each other secretively. The only words he could hear were “divine pulse” and “turn back time” before the two had noticed his presence. Plus, having no emotions, bearing the Crest of Flames and being able to wield the Sword of the Creator, his hair and eye colour suddenly changing two months before graduation… They certainly weren’t things an ordinary mercenary would have.

Jeralt was also a bit of an enigma, as Alois had previously mentioned that the man still looked the same as he did 20 years ago. Barely any sign of aging, if he remembered the knight’s words. On top of that, there was practically nothing about his wife, aka Byleth’s mother. There was her grave in the graveyard at the monastery, but the name had worn off from the weather and the years of birth and death only showed that she was around 20 years old. 

Getting up from the log he was sitting on, Claude strode towards where his tent once stood, his and Linhardt’s belongings laying on the ground. Grabbing his things, he strapped his pack around his waist, securing it tightly. There was still some time before they had to leave.

Information. Claude was desperate for it. Perhaps he could drill Byleth or Jeralt for a bit while they walked back, pretending to be interested in their travels. Even the other mercenaries would work. He was sure that they would love to gush about the captain and his son. A few of them were loitering around, talking among themselves as they waited for the students and knights to finish up. Claude decided to approach a group of three, watching as they stared at him curiously, wondering what he was doing.

“Hey there! You’re apart of Jeralt’s gang, aren’t you? Mind if I ask a few questions?” he started off, making one of them scoff.

“And if we are? What kinda questions do you have, kid?” one of them asked, his tan skin mottled with scars.

“Oh, just any old stories that you have, to be honest. Were there any jobs that you guys had that sparked some unforgettable moments? Or were there stupid moments in camp that happened? I’d love to know more about the esteemed Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon. Besides, you guys seems like pretty friendly people to me.” Claude explained. As soon as he had finished his sentence, they all burst out laughing.

“Us? Friendly people? Kid, have you seen us?” another asked, a large sword strapped to his back.

“Well, you all act like family despite being of different blood. I’d say that trust between each other makes you friendly enough.” Claude answered, a smug smile on his face.

The third one looked proud, impressed by his words. “He’s got a point.” A grin on her face, she winked at him. “What’s your name, kid?” she asked.

“Claude.”

“Well Claude, I’m Talia. This big guy with the sword is Darien, and the other one is Aslen. You’re in luck, us three have been in Jeralt’s care since Byleth was just a babe.” she introduced, clearly more open to talking than the others.

“You look different than the others.” Aslen bluntly commented. “Are you Almyran?”

Claude chuckled, internally sighing. “Nope. Fodlan-born. Everyone seems to ask that.” he answered. Seeing how he had just met them, they didn’t deserve the right to know just yet. Judging from his darker skin and slight accent, Aslen seemed to be Almyran as well. “My turn. Did Byleth do anything stupid as a child?”

“Oh, so we’re going that route, are we?” Darien smirked, suddenly much more interested than he was before. “Well, back when he was just a little tot, Jeralt had to hoist him around on his back all the time whenever he went on errands. The kid would unintentionally steal things.”

_ Well, this was a lot easier than expected. _

“He once managed to keep hold of a kitten during a quick supply run.” Aslen added, a twinkle in his eye. “Jeralt was so exasperated, he ended up shoving Byleth into our care after multiple occasions.”

“The kid stole a pendant one time. I’m pretty sure it was worth like, a few thousand gold too. Jeralt was going to give it back, but us three hid it away.” Talia chimed in. “We later gave it back to him during his 13th birthday as a present. While he didn’t remember anything about it, Jeralt gave us a big scolding. He still wears it though.”

Claude nodded, intrigued by all of the information that they were giving him. _ Note to self: Byleth was an idiot as a child. _

“Why are you talking about me?”

All four of them jumped at the sudden intrusion, their gazes turning to meet Byleth’s. His eyes stared blankly at them, and despite it being his usual stoic look, it felt more piercing than normal. “Don’t spill my entire life to someone you just met.” he bitterly spat.

Claude couldn’t help but notice the pendant around Byleth’s neck, just as Talia had explained. It was gorgeous, an amethyst stone that had been tightly wrapped in leather string and strung around his neck. It was barely the size of a coin, yet shone brightly in the sunlight.

“You have a point.” he shrugged, “I was a bit insensitive to ask about your life without your permission. My apologies.” Claude spoke, giving a short bow to Byleth. In response, he walked off without another word.

“Ah, that Byleth. Don’t take it as an offence, kid. He’s like that all the time.” Darien commented, giving Claude a hefty pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah I could tell the moment I saw him.” he grumbled, his brow creased into frustration. “That pendant is quite nice though. I can see why it was worth so much.”

Aslen nodded. “It’s still a beauty, despite how many years it’s been. It used to be on a chain, but we figured that it would break pretty easily. Swapped it out with leather string and hey, it still hasn’t frayed. I’d call that a win.” he grinned, a proud smile on his face.

“Claude? Where are you? We’re going now!” Hilda’s voice rang through the forest grounds, making Claude jump from his spot.

“Ahh, seems like we’re setting off now. It was lovely chatting with you three, I do hope we’ll be able to speak again.” He gave a grand bow, exaggerating his movements to get a little laugh out of the three mercenaries. They followed suit, having their own little bit of fun before waving him off.

Talia, Darien, and Aslen. They were useful people added to Claude’s list. With how warm they had been to him, he was sure that they had bought his Mr. Nice Guy facade. With any luck, at least one of them would stick around after Jeralt and Byleth joined the monastery. Once he could befriend them, Claude would have a constant supply of information at his fingertips.

A grin spread on his face, silently celebrating his accomplishments. Yet another step forward.

“What’s got you so happy? You aren’t delirious, are you?” Hilda asked, a worried tone in her voice as Claude matched his pace with hers.

“Oh gods no, I’m fine. I just remembered that there’s something waiting for me at the monastery.” Claude lied, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Ooh, I wonder what it is. Or, maybe it’s a who?” Hilda nudged him lightly in the ribs, teasing him with a wink.

_ Oh, it’s a person alright. Their name is Byleth. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that we've finally finished all the repetitive stuff i'm hoping that chapters will become more interesting... because now i have actual plot i can work on now... yeet
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	7. relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the mock battle comes concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im finally back... pls enjoy whatever this mess is
> 
> i'll properly go through this later or sumthing i'm sick so i spent lots of time sniffling and blankly reading over the chapter

The next two weeks after the arrival of Jeralt and Byleth had been interesting.

After reluctantly hanging up their mercenary life, the latter becoming a professor and the former as the new captain of the knights, it was decided that most of their mercenary group would leave the monastery and continue their jobs. Being their most trusted members, Talia and Darien became the new leaders, guiding a solid two thirds of the mercs back into the rhythm. The other third stayed at the monastery, allowing themselves to become Byleth’s battalion, Aslen at the helm. While Claude wasn’t overjoyed to be given the more intimidating member of the three to weedle information out of, it was better than nothing.

He had taken the effort to chat with the three of them whenever he had free time, slowly gaining their trust by finding common interests to discuss. For Aslen, it was wyverns. Darien enjoyed the practice of apothecary, while Talia loved to talk about archery. Luckily for Claude, he knew a lot about all of those things, so he took to sweet talking and factual discussions to gain their trust.

After a few days, it was as if he had been a part of their mercenary group for years. In return for his friendship, he had received little snippets of their background, though most of the information were things such as Jeralt’s misadventures of being a new parent. (Not like he was complaining, it was hilarious.) The Riegan ended up promising them to a meal at the nearby tavern before Talia and Darien had to leave, which was sometime during the Harpstring Moon. 

So focused on getting friendly while he could, Claude had completely forgotten about the mock battle at the end of the month. Though his professor, - this time it was Manuela - was very adamant about getting practice in before the battle, Claude was never in the right mindset during those days. His mind would wander, and he’d find himself drifting off into a multitude of daydreams and schemes. It always ended up with a light smack to his head and Manuela chiding him for shirking his work.

Claude didn’t bother with practicing for the mock battle during the day. Sure, his body was weaker than before, but it was much more used to fighting than anyone else. His advanced techniques would cause suspicion, and he’d end up with a mess on his hands. Instead, Claude snuck out at night, coaxing a sleepy Noctis out of the stable to fly out into the forest and practice in the moonlight.

His goal was to take down as many as he could before exerting himself into losing. With Byleth at the Black Eagles’ side, they’d probably win regardless of how hard he tried. Plus, who knew what could happen? It seemed like fighting always ended up with some sort of mental breakdown.

At the day of the battle, they all trekked down to the field, chatting happily and making bets among themselves. There was plenty of interhouse banter, ensuring that there would be no hard feelings depending on who won or lost. For Claude, on the other hand, he couldn’t help but meld into the mindset of war.

Observe your surroundings, mark down important vantage points and places where you could hide. Figure out choke points if the enemy were in this location, or advantages that they would use based on what men were deployed and how many they had.

The three houses took their places, preparing themselves and their team to win. Staring down at the battlefield, Claude observed the other two houses. For the Blue Lions, Dimitri had chosen Dedue, Ashe, and Mercedes as his fighters. Edelgard had chosen Dorothea, Ferdinand, and Hubert for her house. The same as before.

Claude, on the other hand, had mixed up his choice compared to last time. Hilda was swapped for Raphael, and Lorenz had been switched out with Lysithea. The plan was to have Raphael charge in front towards the Black Eagles with Ignatz, while Claude and Lysithea went towards the Blue Lions.

While it seemed rash to split into two groups and be outnumbered, Claude had some faith that it would work. Raphael and Ignatz had a strong relationship and knew how to work well together, and even though he and Lysithea weren’t on the best of terms, Claude could accommodate with her fighting style.

The field they were currently occupying was large, but definitely not as large as Gronder. Claude could still make out Raphael’s large body and Ignatz’s steady stance from where he was on the other side of the field, and the smaller distance allowed him to yell orders from his position. The two of them were doing spectacular, having taken out Ferdinand and Dorothea with ease. However, Hubert and Edelgard were not ones to be messed with. Ignatz was confirmed “out” after a narrow miss with a Miasma, and Raphael took a nasty hit to the shoulder from Edelgard’s axe.

During their little scuffle, Lysithea and Claude were making their way through the Blue Lions.

Ashe was a bit of an easy one to pick out, with a well timed Miasma from Lysithea and an arrow from Claude. The rounded wooden tip plinked against the boy’s chest right as he sidestepped away from the spell. A sheepish smile on his face, he walked off with a quick apology to Dimitri and wishes of good luck.

Dedue was tough, a meatshield that absorbed all their attacks. Claude had ordered Lysithea to send as many spells as she could towards the retainer, but he was careless and was unable to stop the Nosferatu sent right at her from Mercedes. Luckily for him, Dedue was forced to yield due to the continuous damage.

That left him all alone to deal with the rest of them. Well, him and Manuela.

“You’ve got this Claude!” Hilda cheered from the sidelines, watching with the rest of the houses and those that were out.

_ I mean, I do have this. This is cake compared to the war. But that would be a tad bit suspicious, wouldn’t it? _

Claude surveyed his surroundings, looking at his enemies carefully. Dimitri, Mercedes, Hanneman. Edelgard, Hubert, Byleth. Himself and Manuela. From what he knew, Hanneman and Manuela would only attack when provoked. Byleth, on the other hand, would run in blindly.

A quick plan came to mind. As selfish as it would sound, he’d let Manuela be defeated. It was easier to focus on just himself than having to factor in another person that was a good distance away from him and doing nothing.

Manuela wasn’t necessarily a fighter during the war, her efforts focused on frontline healing and being the head physician of the medical tent. When needed, she was a beast on the battlefield, sending an endless barrage of Bolganone and the occasional Bolting. That, however, was much later in life. Right now, she was nothing but a useless weight to Claude in terms of battle. A harsh statement, but true.

Taking a deep breath, Claude rushed straight towards Mercedes first, dodging the spells she cast at him with light steps. Luckily for him, Dimitri was busy with Edelgard and Hubert, allowing him to take the mage out with an arrow to her chest.

_ That’s one. _

A frustrated cry roared from the other side of the field, followed by a string of curses and the casting of spells. Claude quickly turned to see that Byleth had gone straight for Manuela, just as he had hoped. The former mercenary made quick work of his fellow coworker, making sure not to cause any serious harm. Ignoring his own professor’s complaints about how he didn’t protect her, Claude moved his focus to Hanneman.

Said professor was on a heal tile and wouldn’t be budging anytime soon. In situations like these, close combat seemed ideal. Dodging around the spells sent to him, Claude had run up close with his sword unsheathed, haphazardly slashing. Hanneman was quite perplexed at the action, mainly at how horrible Claude’s sword skills were and why the archer had decided on close combat to begin with.

A grin on his face, Claude quickly changed tactics, going from wild swings to calculated and fierce, pushing Hanneman off the heal tile. Stumbling to dodge a blow aimed at his gut, the crest scholar fell to the ground. Claude finished with a confidant swing to his head, the tip of his training sword stopping right before his neck.

“Out.” he confidently announced. Sheathing his sword, he offered a hand to show good sportsmanship. Though still surprised, Hanneman took it, helping himself up and giving Claude a small nod before walking away.

It was then that the Golden Deer leader was acutely aware of multiple pairs of eyes preying on him.

Slowly turning on his heel, Claude was met with the sight of Byleth, Hubert, Edelgard, and Dimitri all looking at him with their weapons poised. Ah, so they had temporarily teamed up, deciding to take out the weak prey first.

“Guess it’s time for the ace, huh?” Claude muttered, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take down all four of those monsters alone. They didn’t begin attacking, and he assumed that they were waiting for him to make a move first. Finally, it was time for some fun.

Raising his hands, he brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

As the smirk on Claude’s lips grew into a manic smile, the cry of a wyvern caught everyone’s attention. Its black scales shone in the sun as it flew in the sky and landed next to Claude. Using the brief moment of shock to his advantage, he quickly hoisted himself onto the saddle. There was a new spark of excitement in his eyes, burning brightly with adrenaline.

“Let us ride, Noctis!” he cheered, spurring the wyvern into flight. With a roar, Noctis beat his wings, excited to finally be used for battle instead of sky watch.

“Is… that not against the rules?” Dorothea questioned, watching as Claude soared high into the sky, making Noctis fly towards the other side of the battlefield.

“By all means, no.” Jeralt answered, amused by the situation. “This mock battle is to test your skills so far. If Claude was able to learn how to fight on a wyvern before this, then he is free to use those skills in the battle.”

Now a safe distance away, Claude turned to face his four opponents. With a grunt, Hubert began to pursue him, attempting to send spell after spell in the air with wild fury. As if he’d done it a hundred times before, Claude weaved through all of them, all whilst guiding Noctis closer towards the mage.

As Hubert sent another Miasma towards him, Claude launched himself off his saddle, the last arrow from his quiver nocked in his bow. A well timed backflip allowed him to soar past the spell, the dark magic just grazing his uniform. Muscle memory willed him to let go of the arrow, sending it flying towards Hubert’s chest. He landed right back onto Noctis’ saddle comfortably, watching the arrow strike the mage before falling to the ground. Pleased, Claude cheekily smiled at Hubert.

"What a showoff." Leonie grumbled, but the smile on her face said otherwise.

“Hubert von Vestra, out!” Jeralt announced.

Claude didn’t waste any time to celebrate his victory, quickly kicking his heels and guiding Noctis back into flight. The wyvern began to gain altitude, flying higher and higher until those on the battlefield were like miniature figures. If he squinted, he could see Dimitri yelling at him, the prince’s words never reaching his ears.

With another kick of his heels, Noctis began to dive back towards the ground, his snout pointed right at Dimitri’s body. The wind blew wildly in his hair, his eyes watering up as his chest pressed right to the wyvern’s back. Claude had seen this formation done back in Almyra, back when he was just a little boy watching a few of the wyvern riders in his father’s army practice. Careful control and trust were needed to ensure that both the wyvern and the rider wouldn’t crash into the ground and die almost immediately.

He would have preferred an axe in his hand, but a sword would do just as well.

Dimitri was frozen in place, startled by the fact that there was a wyvern diving right at him. Did Claude have some sort of death wish? There was no hesitation in his actions, and Noctis showed no signs of slowing down. All the prince could do was close his eyes and pray.

Just as Dimitri thought that he was to be struck down to the ground by a wyvern at top speed, a burst of air flew by him instead, the light tap of a training sword hitting the side of his neck. He slowly opened his eyes, fingers gingerly brushing themselves against the spot. It hadn’t hurt at all, despite how fast Claude had been going. Regardless, Dimitri was now out.

Slowly, Noctis managed to guide himself into a glide, landing on the grass with a thump and a happy roar.

“Good job, Noctis.” Claude cooed as he hopped off of his steed, petting the side of his neck heartily. “I’ll let you rest now, okay? We’ll train later.” While his prized wyvern back in the war would be well accustomed to long hours of flying and diving, Noctis was still young and inexperienced.

Letting him fly back to safety, Claude focused on the task at hand. Byleth and Edelgard stood before him, weapons gripped tightly in their hands. Even though this wasn’t even close to what Deidriu looked like, there was the same sense of unease thrumming through his veins when the Empire attacked.

_ Focus. This isn’t the war. Your life isn’t at risk. _

Taking a deep breath, Claude prepared himself as Byleth began to strike first, charging towards him with determination. Blade met blade, a series of parries and attacks ringing through the field.

“Not bad for an archer!” Byleth yelled through the cacophony, and Claude smirked.

“I try my best!” he answered, suddenly feeling a presence behind him. Claude pushed himself to the side, feeling the wind of Edelgard’s axe brush by him. He watched it collide with Byleth’s sword, creating a resounding crack. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened if he didn’t move. If that was live steel, it would have cut through his back, shattering his spine into tiny pieces.

“Focus, Claude!” Edelgard yelled, taking a swing at the back of his knees. The Golden Deer leader simply jumped up in the air, retaliating with his own swing. For a short while, Edelgard and Byleth took turns with their attacks, slowly pushing Claude into exhaustion.

It was like Deidriu all over again. The mock battle slowly became more and more of a blur, his memories beginning to overlap. Claude could see his forces being pushed back by the Empire, slaughtered mercilessly with their blood seeping into the cracks of the cobblestones. Hilda let out her final breath, leaving Claude to wallow in despair as he fired arrow after arrow.

It didn’t take long for Claude to zone out, standing there stunned and tormented. His distracted mind allowed Byleth to kick his training sword out of his hand, rendering him useless. His gaze jerked to where it lay, before flitting back to what was in front of him. Her gaze firm, Edelgard lifted her axe to Claude’s chest.

“Will you yield?” she asked, Byleth standing next to her.

Claude barely registered her words, merely seeing her mouth move in silence. In front of him was the red of Edelgard’s dress shining in the sunlight, drenched in blood. The light teal of Byleth’s hair fluttered softly in the breeze, the sting of his wounds pulsating deeply and the smell of the salty sea being overpowered by the scent of rotting flesh and blood.

Something within him snapped.

Claude’s eyes darkened with so many different emotions at once. Anger, revenge, pain. Huffing, his lips curled into a sneer.

“Like I’d yield to someone like you.” he hissed.

Claude lunged at her, Edelgard’s axe falling to the ground. He was too fast for anyone to predict, his left hand pushing the princess, the other reaching inside his boot to pull out the dagger he had hid. The rules of no live steel was made very clear, but that didn’t stop Claude from bringing it just in case.

Landing to the dirt with a thump, his hand curled around her neck loosely, the tip of the dagger just centimeters away from the middle of her eyes. “Yield.” he snarled. Her eyes flashed with panic and fear.

Lightly, the tip of Byleth’s training sword rested against the back of Claude’s neck. “Claude.” he spoke slowly. “Stop.”

He paid no heed to the warning, instead thrusting the dagger closer to Edelgard. “I said, yield!” he roared, unable to control his rage. His nails began to dig into her skin. Her fault. It was her fault. Stab her. _ Kill- _

“Claude!” Byleth yelled, his voice laced with authority and disappointment. “Yield. Now.” he growled. No. He couldn’t yield, not yet. He needed to avenge his friends, avenge those that had died for him.

The shriek of a wyvern suddenly echoed through the field, the familiar shine of black scales approaching the three of them. Byleth barely had time to bring up his sword, blocking the swipe of talons to his face. Gritting his teeth, he pushed against the massive animal, being forced away from the duo.

Claude snapped out of his stupor, realizing that Byleth could be mauled by an aggravated wyvern at any moment. With a hiss, he pushed himself off of Edelgard, shoving the dagger back into his boot.

“Noctis, stop!” he yelled, putting himself in front of Byleth with his arms outstretched. “Do not harm him.” Claude glared at the wyvern, his gaze steady as it silently conveyed his warning. Byleth took the opportunity to move himself away, focusing his attention to Edelgard.

Noctis landed to the ground, pleased to see his master well but still agitated from the possible danger. “It’s alright.” Claude murmured, approaching him as he roared. With a whine, Noctis bowed down, gently nudging his snout against Claude’s stomach. “I’m okay.” he whispered. Carefully, he rested a hand on Noctis’ neck, soothing his wyvern’s temper.

“Are you alright?” Byleth asked, helping Edelgard to her feet.

“I am fine.” she answered. “Though I don’t know if I can say the same for Claude.” she muttered, looking at his direction as she rubbed at the red crescents that marked her neck. The Riegan didn’t notice, too busy with Noctis at the moment.

“Claude von Riegan, disqualified!” Jeralt’s voice boomed through the field. “The winner of the mock battle are the Black Eagles!”

Claude bit at his lip, all of the adrenaline dissipating from his body in one sudden wave. He had caused a scene in front of everyone, acting on his emotions and letting them get the better of him. Seemed like he couldn’t even go one damn day without being an idiot.

** _This isn’t you._ **

The phrase echoed in his head once more, only making him feel more bitter about everything. Bile rose in his throat, the weight on his chest making him feel like throwing up. Claude thought it was guilt at first, having acted wildly and almost killed Edelgard for the second time. Deep down, he knew that it was resentment, one that harboured deep within his heart.

He was in no condition to face his house mates properly, and he’d rather not be questioned harshly by Jeralt for disobeying the rules. Once Noctis was calm, Claude hoisted himself onto the saddle, silently spurring the wyvern into flight and soaring away from everyone. He needed time to clear his head.

The Black Eagles had run down the hill in a rush, congratulating their leader and professor on their victory. On the other hand, the Blue Lions and Golden Deer stayed put, watched the retreating figure of Claude and his wyvern fly out of sight.

“Will he come back?” Sylvain asked, and Hilda sighed.

“He will. I’ve just… never seen him act this way before.”

* * *

Two hours passed since the mock battle, all of the students happily mingling during dinner time to celebrate the victories and to look upon their mistakes. The sun had begun to set, enveloping Garreg Mach in a myriad of reds, oranges, and yellows. Shops were beginning to close, the last hustle of customers coming through.

With a thump, Noctis landed at the gates of the marketplace, grumbling with fatigue as Claude dismounted him. He was just as tired as his wyvern, if not even more. His pent up frustration and anger had been taken out on a poor tree. Without a word, he grabbed onto the lead, guiding the two of them through the market and to the stables, stopping to greet the Gatekeeper.

“Jeralt was looking for you.” he briefly mentioned, and Claude gave him a nod of thanks.

He took his time to care for Noctis, unbuckling the saddle and brushing the dust and dirt off of his scales before grabbing the wyvern his dinner. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was stalling as long as he could. Jeralt could be a menace, and Claude didn’t like the thought of having to face him alone. After a few more gentle pats and a general clean up of the stall, he made his way to the captain’s office.

The monastery was eerily quiet, barely any signs of students or staff. There was still time before curfew, but there was no one around. Everyone was probably at the dining hall for dinner, and his stomach growled at the thought of food. He’d grab something to eat later. Claude wasn’t in the mood to run into his classmates and explain where he had been.

His boots clicked against the floors of the monastery, each step making him feel more anxious. His usual proud and carefree demeanour had completely disappeared, replaced with a certain fragility he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Claude arrived in front of the office door, gritting his teeth to quell his trembling body. The hell was he so scared for? It would be a simple reprimanding, he was used to this.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock. Three raps.

“Come in.” a gruff voice called out, and Claude let himself in. Inside, Jeralt sat at his desk, a multitude of papers sitting in front of him. When the captain raised his head to meet Claude’s eyes, he set down the quill in his hand. “Ah, Claude. Take a seat, brat. And close the door, will you?”

Claude did as he was told, stiffly walking to one of the couches that sat in the middle of the room. Jeralt stood from his chair, sitting at the couch across from Claude. He did his best to avoid his gaze, any sign of an air of confidence thrown down the drain. He had forgotten how much of a presence Jeralt had when doing his job.

“So,” the captain started, observing the house leader in front of him. “Bringing a dagger into the mock battle, huh? Gosh, kids these days never listen.” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry for my incompetence.” Claude mumbled, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. “It won’t happen again.”

Jeralt sighed, snapping his fingers. “Look at me, kid.” he ordered. Claude slowly lifted his head, blankly staring at him. Jeralt almost flinched at how disturbingly piercing his eyes were. “I can tell that it was a force of habit, wasn’t it? I mean, I sure as hell would never enter a battle without at least one weapon on me. I understand your reasoning behind it.”

Claude slowly nodded. “That’s correct. My mother always told me to have a dagger on hand at all times.” he explained. “There are times when I forget about it, but my muscle memory kicks in.”

“Alright, I can believe that. However, your behaviour towards Miss Hresvelg is unforgivable. Putting the future emperor of Adrestia at knifepoint? Really?”

It took all of Claude’s strength not to look away when Jeralt finished his sentence.

“...My body reacted on its own accord. My emotions got the better of me.” he muttered, unable to think of a lie to tell Jeralt.

“Do you two have some sort of history? Anything that I should probably take into account if I ever set you two against each other again?” he questioned. Claude took a deep breath, his mind running through every single option that he could say and their outcomes.

“No.” he finally answered. “There is nothing between us. However, the situation was very similar to something that I had experienced long ago. I’m afraid that my memories overwhelmed me, and I acted as if I were back in those times.”

Jeralt mulled over Claude’s answer, going through it in his head and seeing if there were any lies within. Judging from the boy’s facial expression and remorse in his voice, there didn’t seem to be anything. It was all true.

“I wonder what you went through.” Jeralt whispered to himself. “Whatever it was, it must have affected you badly. I’ll let you free this time, but you’ll still have to issue an apology to Miss Hresvelg. Seteth will also ask to speak with you sometime soon. Understood?” he asked, and Claude nodded. Waving a hand, Jeralt shooed the boy out of his room, standing to get back to his paperwork.

However, he stayed put.

“Captain Jeralt?”

“Hmm?” he grumbled, freezing in place and turning on his heel. The look on Claude’s face had… changed. There wasn’t the air of fatigue or seriousness that had been present during their conversation. Something else had replaced it. Desperation.

“Please, help me.”

Taken aback by the abrupt request, Jeralt could only look at Claude with confusion, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “I- what the hell does that mean, kid?” he managed to sputter out.

“I can’t just stroll back into Garreg Mach after disappearing for a few hours, pretending like I almost didn't kill Edelgard and have my wyvern go feral on your son.” Claude spat out. “Sorry about that, by the way.” he added. Noticing his rising temper, he forced it down with a deep breath. “I need an excuse. Something that can sweep this entire incident under the rug. Y’know sir, you’re the first person that I’ve ever remotely told about my past.”

Jeralt blinked. “Okay, slow down. Let’s take this one step at a time, alright? Allow this old man to understand what you want from me.” Composing himself, he took a seat once more, crossing his arms and turning his full attention on Claude. “So, I’m the first person you’ve ever told about your prior incident.”

“Yes.”

“And because you don’t want tension because of your actions, you want me to help you get out of this scot free.”

“That about sums it up.”

Closing his eyes, Jeralt let out a long sigh. He wasn’t allowed to spur on any sort of mischief between the students, that was made clear from Seteth’s long speech to him. Claude was a unique case. The presence he held was more mature than any of the other students, and had been pieced together perfectly. Being able to flip-flop between two personalities with such ease was disturbing. It had been shown to him during their first meeting, but now it was much more prominent.

After a long, awkward silence, Jeralt answered. “Alright.”

Claude almost jumped out of his seat, the unexpected answer filling his eyes with hope once more. “Really?”

“I don’t do this to everyone, and I won’t be able to vouch for you all the time, kid. Just this once.” Jeralt explained. “I’ve had my eyes on you for awhile, you’re not like the others, and I like that. Too bad you turned out a noble and not a merc.” His lips spread into a grin that was filled with excitement. “A man like me has gotta get his dose of mischief every once in awhile.”

Claude returned his smile. “I’d be happy to comply.”

“Now, what to do? I don’t think using the excuse of a fucked up mental state would work, would it?”

“Nah, that would just cause more concern, and Seteth’ll make me check up with Manuela.”

“What about a letter from home? You could say that the contents caused you to become irrational. ‘Sides, you’re still a teen, hormonal shit happens.”

“That could work, but then I’d have to forge a letter for proof.”

“I’ll ask Talia. She’ll do it without asking, you have my word.”

A bit of scheming and bonding later, Jeralt and Claude had come up with a solid plan to cover for his mistakes. Using Talia as their helper, she’d write a letter to pose as Claude’s mother, reporting the sudden “illness” of his father. It would be brief, but the important detail of “poisoned Adrestian goods” would be the main focal point to shed light on his behaviour to Edelgard. The letter would then be presented to Seteth when Claude would be called to his office, and with a bit of acting and guilt tripping, he’d walk out of there with a simple reprimanding and no repercussions.

It was… pretty stupid, but there was an inkling of faith that it would work out.

Walking out of Jeralt’s office with a large grin on his face and some semblance of happiness reflected in his body language wasn’t what he had expected. The captain was more useful than he had originally planned for, that was certain. Perhaps if he was able to bond with Jeralt, then Claude could use his high status to his advantage.

That night, Claude slept well for the first time in years.

* * *

The next morning started with an unsealed envelope slipped under his door. As he opened it up, Claude quickly realized that it was the forged letter from Talia, just as Jeralt had promised. It looked like, well, a letter. Neat handwriting that covered the page, conveying all the points that were needed. All that was left was to seal it and reopen it, making it look like it had been read.

Grabbing a wax stick, he carefully brought up a magical flame to his fingertip, lighting the wick. Instead of the usual Garreg Mach silver that was supplied to all students, Jeralt had lent one of his yellow wax sticks, the colour commonly used in the Alliance.

Allowing the hot wax to drip onto the opening of the envelope, he grabbed the wax stamp laying on the corner of his desk. Claude sealed it, the crest of Riegan now permanently stamped onto the wax.

While Claude waited for the wax to cool, he decided to make his way towards the dining hall for an early breakfast, wanting to eat in peace. No other house members were present, just a few staff, so he took the opportunity to stray from any prying eyes. Until Seteth’s “official” statement was made about his previous behaviour, it was best to stay low on the radar.

As he walked back to his dorm room to prepare for the day’s lessons, Claude caught sight of Seteth waiting near the stairs. His face was anything but happy, and when the advisor noticed Claude walking his way, his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“Mr. Riegan.” he greeted, giving a nod to the Golden Deer leader. A smile plastered on his face, his eyes twinkled with fake delight.

“Seteth! To what do I owe the honour of seeing you so early this morning?” he sang, tilting his head in mock innocence.

“Once you are done preparing for the day, I’d like to speak to you in my office. Please, come over as soon as possible.”

Even though he had expected the request, Claude couldn’t help but flinch, the smile on his face faltering.

“Ah, yes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Satisfied with his answer, Seteth strided away. Gritting his teeth, Claude let out a heavy breath, his hands clenched into fists. It was time to put the plan into action.

He jumped up the steps two at a time, briskly walking through the hallway and into his room. Running around, he hastily grabbed the things he needed, shoving them into his pack before snatching the letter off of his desk. Claude ran his thumb under the flap of the envelope, neatly unsealing the wax before heading out of the dorms.

He walked as if he had a purpose to attend, his eyes cold and his body language screaming, “touch me if you dare.” Any of the staff or monks steered clear of Claude’s path, frightened by his heavy footsteps. However, the closer he got to Seteth’s office, the slower his legs moved. He was well aware of the fact that he was stalling, his hands continuing to tremble.

Seteth was a very keen and alert person, being able to detect trouble kilometers away. At the same time, he was dense, easily swayed by any talk of family. That would be Claude’s only chance of getting past the advisor’s strict barrier.

He stared at the door of the office, knocking on it before entering. There was no need to wait for an answer, Seteth was waiting for him after all.

“Ah, Mr. Riegan. Thank you for coming.” said man announced, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk as Claude closed the door behind him. He gave him a small nod before taking his seat. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, correct?” Seteth asked.

“Yes.” Claude answered, sticking to straightforward responses. The letter was still tightly held in his hand.

“Good. Then I’ll get straight to the point. Why on earth would you act in such a manner?” Seteth reprimanded. “As the heir to House Riegan and the leader of the Golden Deer, I expect you to act and set a good example. If word of your actions were to be known by the Empire, then they’d be out for the Alliance and your head! Do not expect to get away with this without repercussions, unless you can persuade me to believe that your actions were justified.”

Without missing a beat, Claude spoke. “I do.”

Seteth’s eyebrows rose, his gaze scrutinizing. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Wordlessly, Claude placed the letter onto Seteth’s desk, sliding it towards the advisor. “A letter from my mother.” he began to explain, watching as Seteth opened the envelope to read the contents. “My father has fallen ill. Conveniently, a shipment of Adrestian goods had arrived a few weeks prior, containing consumables such as produce and tea in barrels sealed with magic to retain their freshness. My mother reported that he began to drink Hresvelg Blend often.”

Seteth nodded, setting the letter down to continue listening.

“And?”

“They believe that the goods that my father was given were poisoned. They were doled out by the Adrestian merchants that had arrived, and he was given his share personally, a so called “gift”. From the information that was shared to me, I’ve deduced that the amount of poison within the tea was very little, not enough to cause damage when consumed once. But, with the almost daily dosage, it has built up in my father’s body. It’ll take a while until it is completely expelled from his body. His strength has come back, but even with all of the medicine and healing they can give him, the effects of the poison have partially damaged his body beyond repair.”

Seteth’s eyes shone with pity and understanding, even though his facial expression maintained his stoic look. “I see.” he mused. “And your father is a well-known man? Enough to be given a gift from the Adrestian Empire?” he questioned, his suspicions not fully purged.

“He is a well-known noble.” Claude answered, not sparing any more information than that.

Seteth dwelled on the information, going through the letter once more, and writing down a few things on a scrap piece of paper. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “As troubling as this matter is, this doesn’t quite justify your actions, Mr. Riegan. I understand the anger you would have, but it doesn’t explain why you attacked Ms. Hresvelg with such intent.”

“I don’t think you understand, sir.” Claude hissed, the sudden change of demeanour grabbing Seteth’s attention. “The doctors said that my father almost died! He wouldn’t wake for days, and his pulse would have been weakening everyday if it weren’t for immediate action! I know that Edelgard has nothing to do with her father’s actions, but an attempt on his life by the Adrestian Empire labels all of them as enemies to me. That includes her.”

Claude’s chest heaved up and down, his pulse racing and a cold sweat beginning to form. Slowly, he eased himself to calm down, remembering that he was in front of the Archbishop’s advisor and that the man could possibly expel him from the monastery if he wanted to.

A shaky breath escaped his lips, and Claude put his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

Seteth called out, voice filled with worry. “Mr. Riegan?”

Claude took a few moments to collect himself, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry, sir.” he managed to mumble out, “It’s just, the thought of my father dying, isn’t- isn’t something I want to think about.”

Sadly for him, this wasn’t some act that he was pretending to fake. Claude’s little scheme was something that had happened during the war, having flashed back into his memory during the discussion.

The same situation happened to Lorenz, but instead of the Adrestian Empire, it was Count Gloucester. To think that a father would try to kill his son just because they were on opposite sides of a war made his blood boil. Claude immediately put aside his tactics into finding a cure for the poison, pouring over old texts and experiments for days on end.

Lorenz had survived, his body fighting the poison with the help of a concoction that Claude had brewed, but he was never the same since then.

“Claude. Please look at me.” Seteth ordered softly, and he complied. That was the first time he had called to him by his first name.

“I see where your actions had birthed from, and I understand that you were not in the right mental state at the time.” he continued, “Just this once, I will dismiss this. However, you must promise not to attempt such a thing ever again. Doing so will end with serious consequences.”

“I promise.”

Nodding, Seteth silently slid the letter back to Claude. “I will deal with the apology to Ms. Hresvelg. Please, do not fret. I’ll refrain from sharing the contents of your letter as minimally as possible.”

Claude grabbed the letter, rising from his seat. “Thank you, sir.” He bowed to Seteth.

“If you wish, you may miss classes for the day.”

Claude shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I plan on attending.”

“I see. Please take care of yourself. You are free to leave.”

With one last bow, he left Seteth’s office, shutting the door in his wake and making his way to the Golden Deer classroom. He had done it. He got away scot free, just with a little letter and a bit of monologuing. He should have been happy, like how he was after the plan had been formulated with Jeralt last night.

Then why the hell did he feel so guilty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell that i can't write action scenes nor anything in general
> 
> i feel so bad for not being able to update as often as many fics (weekly/biweekly updates) but!! i am at least trying to update every month minimum!! god at this rate the fic'll be done in like 2 years lol
> 
> also i hired at a part time job! which means less time for writing :(( on the bright side winter break has come so I'm taking advantage of the two weeks off to hopefully get some more shit together for the next chapter
> 
> thank you for sticking with this fic!! it really means a lot to me ♥
> 
>   
EDIT: changed darien's interest from alchemy to apothecary(??) bc alchemy is some complicated shit that makes no sense. idk wtf the practice of making medicine and poison is so i hope apothecary makes sense
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	8. idyllic days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things become a bit more relaxed, but Claude's not sure if it'll last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter this time! I wanted to add more, but what I originally had planned didn't really fit the progression well.
> 
> also I am well aware that I made like 10,000 mistakes about the war (aka any flashbacks/memories) bc i was too lazy to research the crimson flower route so I've decided to make it into some plot stuff that'll happen later. (aka little things can affect a larger outcome)
> 
> anyways enjoy the chapter!! might come back to it to actually edit properly but we know that every time I say this it never happens
> 
> EDIT: I've edited chapters 1-11 to reflect the true CF route. a few minor changes have stayed, but most of the canon should be correct.

The events following Claude’s little meeting with Seteth were anticlimactic, if he had to be honest.

The formal letter of apology was given to Edelgard, who then passed on the information to her class in order to curb any worries. Like always, information spread fast. It wasn’t long until everyone knew about Claude’s situation. Hearing students whisper as he walked past was a thing ever since the school year started, so it wasn’t anything new. Many disagreed with the situation, especially those from Adrestia. A threat to their princess was a threat to them, even if the situation wasn’t intentional. (Which to Claude, sounded pretty fucked up.)

Despite the backlash, Claude had been approached by a few students who had wished to give his father their well wishes. It was surprising, but he accepted them with a smile and informed them that he’d mention them in his upcoming letter.

But other than that? There was nothing. Everyone treated him as if the event never happened, and if anything, treated him nicer. Receiving everyone’s pity for a false situation made his skin itch, but Claude knew that he wouldn’t bother to try again. He’d stick with what he got if it meant that he wasn’t in trouble.

Before he knew it, the 11th of the Harpstring Moon had rolled around. Raphael’s birthday was in a week, so Claude spent his time thinking of a present to get as he busied himself with stable duty. He knew that Byleth would give the birthday boy a bouquet of flowers, so he couldn’t copy that idea… 

“Claude!” a voice cheered, an arm suddenly being slung around his shoulders. He flinched, reaching for his dagger and was about to unsheath it when he recognized the face next to him.

“Darien.” he responded bitterly, “I almost stabbed you, y’know.” Claude added, watching Talia and Aslen approach as well.

“Well, it's a good thing you didn’t!” Darien beamed, his smile a bit too friendly for Claude’s tastes. “Listen, you heard about Talia and I leaving soon, right?” he started.

Claude sighed. “Lemme guess, you want me to treat you guys today?” he asked, and Darien deflated.

“You’re no fun.” he mumbled.

Talia laughed, a familiar melody that was beginning to grow on him. “We’re leaving in two days, kid. I forgot that we never told you the exact date.”

The Riegan froze, staring at Talia with eyes as wide as saucers. “Two days?! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Goddess, I don’t have any time to prepare a farewell gift!” he exclaimed.

“I’m sure there’s no need for that.” Aslen butted in. “This meal is enough of a farewell gift for them.” Darien scowled at him, muttering curses under his breath. 

“It’s just about lunchtime, isn’t it? I’m all finished here, so if you three wanna go wait for me at the gates, I’ll be there in a few. Just gotta change out of this stuffy uniform and wash up a bit.” Claude suggested, and they nodded.

“We’ll see you there, kid.” Talia waved, before grabbing onto the mens’ sleeves and forcing them to wave as well. Claude jogged away to the dorms, grabbing a change of clothes before heading to the bathhouse. After doing a quick wash, it was back to his dorm to dispose of his uniform and to grab a purse of gold.

“Y’know, you look a little like the Almyran kid I’ve seen around the monastery.” Talia commented as Claude arrived, eyeing his clothes up and down.

“Oh, you mean Cyril?” Claude took a brief look at himself. He was dressed as casual as he could, pants tucked into his boots and a loose tunic that had a sash wrapped around his waist. A typical look one would see from commoners in Almyra. It reminded him of what he wore during the war, just a lot simpler.

“Huh. You’re right. What a coincidence.” he muttered, acting as nonchalant as he could.

(He already knew that his act wasn’t fooling anyone, but he continued to wear it. Go big or go home, right?)

The four of them made their way out of the main gates and into the trail to the marketplace below, making small talk and enjoying the beautiful day. It felt nice to be out of his uniform and transform into a normal person for once. There was a certain freedom in not being branded as a student from Garreg Mach.

“Do any of you know what to get a training loving, big muscular guy for his birthday?” Claude blurted out, making the mercenaries pause to think.

“Got a fellow classmate’s birthday coming up?” Talia questioned, and he nodded.

“Next week. I think you guys have seen Raphael a few times, no? He’s usually in the dining hall or in the training grounds.” he explained.

“Ahh, that kid.” Darien pursed his lips, going into a deep train of thought. “Seems like a nice guy, from the few times I’ve seen him.”

“He is. Hardworking and a sucker for his little sis. I know he’s not the dainty type, but I’m not quite sure what would work as a present. I hope you don’t mind if I wander around the market afterwards, ‘fraid this is the only day I have time to go grab his gift."

“Not at all.” Talia replied, narrowly dodging a little girl running through the street.

The marketplace was packed, currently at its peak hours of traffic. Claude led the way through the crowd, pushing through until he arrived at an alleyway next to an apothecary. While he wasn’t concerned about anything, the other three were skeptical. Claude merely waved at them before continuing forward.

“It’s just around the corner.” he called out. Reluctantly, the mercenaries followed. After a small set of stairs, they had arrived at a little clearing. In front of them sat the tavern, the other structures around them storehouses.

“Well? What are you three waiting for?” Claude teased, having already approached the entrance. Opening the door, he let the three mercs inside first, before entering as well. The hustle and bustle of customers and staff burst in their ears, many of the tables full.

“My my, if it isn’t little Claude! Welcome back, honey.” a loud voice called from the counter, and Claude grinned at the middle aged woman standing there. “I see you’ve brought some friends along.”

“It’s good to see you, Telma.” he responded, walking towards her. Before he could reach over and give the woman a short embrace, a white persian cat jumped onto the counter, meowing at Claude. “Yes yes, I haven’t forgotten about you, Louise.” he laughed, petting her softly.

Telma looked over at Talia, Darien, and Aslen, chuckling. “You’ve left your friends in the dust, Claude. Come on over, don’t be shy!” Waving them over, she watched as they shuffled over shyly. “The name’s Telma, a good friend of Claude’s.”

All three of them stared at Telma’s outstretched hand, as if she were some peddler requesting their coin. “I’m Talia.” Said woman took her hand, giving it a firm shake. “To your left is Aslen, and the other is Darien.”

“Well, nice to meet you guys. I won’t bother you no more, go grab a table. Y’all must be hungry.” With a wink, she sauntered off to the kitchen in the back.

“Telma’s nice.” Claude commented, giving Louise one final pet before leading the way. “Like the auntie I’ve always wanted.”

“She’s like the auntie that pulls at your cheeks during family occasions.” Darien muttered, receiving an elbow to the gut from Talia.

After grabbing themselves a table in the corner of the room to sit at, Claude swiftly called over one of the staff, ordering four Gautier cheese gratins and a round of drinks.

“You can hold a drink?” Talia questioned, eyeing him with curiosity. “You’re still underaged, kid. Telma doesn’t hound you on it?”

Claude shook his head. “Nah, she says that I’m not her responsibility, so I take the blame if anything happens.” he mused, giving a nod of thanks when four tankards of beer arrived at their table. Grabbing one of them, he raised it. “Cheers.” he muttered, before taking a long drink. It had been quite some time since he last drank alcohol, but it never failed to leave a warm feeling trailing down his throat and to his stomach.

The other three followed suit, glad to be given a free drink and food. “So, what do you want from us? More about Byleth’s backstory?” Darien asked, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Damn, you’re keen, aren’t you? I’m afraid that exactly why I brought you here, though I won’t press if you’re insistent about keeping your lips sealed.” Claude explained. Better to speak the truth than to lie, especially to these three.

“Oh no, we’d be happy to talk about Byleth. I am curious as to why you’d want to know so much, though. You’re just a student, aren’t you? What’s so interesting about Jeralt’s brat to begin with?” Aslen grumbled. Claude almost jumped out of his skin. That was the most the Almyran had said since meeting him.

He brought a hand up to his chin, stroking a nonexistent beard. “Well, let’s just say that Teach reminds me of someone I knew, someone that I sadly lost contact with. I don’t necessarily think that they’re the same person, but I’d like to keep my options open."

It wasn’t a lie, but at the same time, it wasn’t the truth. From the looks of their faces, it seemed like they all understood the situation.

“We get ya. Aslen here had to leave his little bro to join the war back in Almyra, ended up escaping and then joined Jeralt’s gang while the man had a job there.” Darien explained, his mouth stretched thin and face grim. “I was orphaned at a young age, survived with a bit of this and that. Jeralt found me bleeding out after a run in with bandits and took care of me. Swore I’d repay him back with my life ever since.”

Claude took another sip of his beer. “I’m surprised you’re so willing to tell me your backgrounds even though we just met a few weeks ago.” he mused, wondering if he had come off as trustworthy.

“You’ve shown yourself to be a good kid.” Talia butted in, seeming to have finished her tankard already. “If fate had you become a mercenary, you would have fit in perfectly. Besides, the three of us all agree that you don’t seem like the type of person to expose other people’s secrets.” she explained, and Aslen and Darien nodded.

“I’m honoured.”

“No prob.” she grinned. “And if you’re wondering, I killed my husband. He was a bitch, needless to say.” Claude choked on his spit, unprepared for the sudden change of topic.

“A-Ah. I see.” he managed to cough out, “I’ll be sure not to, uh, get in your way.” Despite the serious conversation, the three mercenaries burst into laughter, amused by poor Claude’s reaction.

“Anyways, we’ve said our part. What about you?”

Claude’s gaze met with Darien’s, and he simply nodded. “An eye for an eye, eh? Understandable.” He quickly flipped through his memories, wondering what he could tell the three of them without being too absurd. His gut feeling told him that he wouldn’t make much progress in this run, so now was a good time to experiment with his actions. (He would rather call them trials, but runs would have to do.)

“I know that you guys already figured it out when we first met, but I’m not from here.” Claude started, just as one of the staff came along with their food. He waited until they had all been served, giving his thanks before watching them leave. “I won’t disclose exactly where my father is from, but I lived in his hometown for most of my life. I moved to Fodlan last year to connect more with my mother’s side of the family. And to be officially titled as the heir to House Riegan.” he explained. “No one knows that I’m not from here. Not even the Church. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this information.”

“Explains the drinking then.” Aslen commented, “And how you dress. Your uniform’s different compared to the other students, and even now you can see.”

“Old habits die hard.” he answered simply.

“Ooh, can we guess where you’re from? I think that you’re from Brigid or Morfid.” Darien added, digging into his serving. “Aslen’s pretty convinced that you’re from Almyra though. Something ‘bout spirits or auras and what not.”

“I did not say that.” Aslen hissed, glaring at Darien as he took a sip of beer. “Thank goodness you’re leaving soon.” he grumbled, shoving a spoon of gratin into his mouth.

A chuckle escaped from Claude’s lips, enjoying the friendship dynamics between the two men.

“You two,” Talia started, “enough of the bantering. Claudey boy here didn’t come to hear you guys bicker.” she scolded. Turning towards Claude, she put on a kind smile. “What do you want to know about Byleth, dear?”

“Anything really. Of course, with due respect to privacy. There’s no need to spill every single detail.”

The three mercs began to rattle off an amalgamation of different things, and Claude learnt a few smaller details about Byleth’s childhood. Silent as a babe, rarely ever fussy. Smart as a toddler, learning how to wield a weapon when he was six and made his first human kill at eleven. Became a full fledged member of the company when he was thirteen.

It seemed like messed up childhoods were a theme through the monastery.

By the time they had finished their meal, the lunchtime crowd had dispersed, allowing Telma to pop over and join in. She recalled her story to the mercs, having travelled all the way from Morfid when she was just a teen, becoming a cook’s apprentice to make her ends meet. Once she got her bearings, she travelled all over the place before settling near the monastery.

“I keep on telling this kid to stop asking me for alcohol whenever he comes by for a meal, but he’s ever so persistent! I’ve resorted to giving him watered down wine most of the time, unless one of the staff sneaks him a beer instead.” she laughed, standing at their table and telling her tales. Claude shrunk down in his seat, the tips of his ears burning as he scowled.

“Telma!” he whined, “You’re embarrassing me.” The woman responded by ruffling Claude’s hair, another laugh bubbling out of her throat.

“Oh hush honey, you’re ruining my fun.”

As Claude grumbled, he pulled out his wallet from his pack, grabbing the coins needed to pay. “Here.” He placed them onto the table, standing up. “Don’t give me any change, use it to buy Louise a treat or something. I’ve gotta go run another errand before curfew.”

“Alright, alright. You better come visit me another time!” she warned, taking the money. Aslen, Talia, and Darien rose from their seats as well, giving their thanks and leaving the tavern. Before Claude could walk off, Telma grabbed hold of his shoulder, turning him around. “Remember,-”

“Gladiolus fought for his love Iris.” Claude recited. A small smile curved at his lips, his fingers gently removing Telma’s hand from his shoulder. “You don’t have worry about me so much.” he whispered, walking out without another word.

Claude brushed past the mercenaries and up the stairs, silently urging them to follow. They weaved back through the alleyway and into the open street once more, now sparse compared to a few hours ago.

“So, where to now, sir?” Talia sang, her arms crossed while matching Claude’s pace.

“Mmm, I’m just gonna look around until something catches my eye.” he murmured, his gaze already attached to the wares of one stall. They flickered to and fro, rarely keeping long before moving onto the next. “Feel free to do your own shopping, my business with you is finished.”

“Wow. Harsh.” Darien clutched his heart in mock pain, pouting at Claude. The Riegan didn’t even spare a look. Clicking his tongue, he dropped the act, splitting off from the group to go look at a blacksmith’s wares. Talia did the same a few moments later, leaving Claude alone with Aslen.

The two Almyrans walked in silence, making their way to a merchant that sold a multitude of wooden engraved trinkets. Perhaps something simple would suffice…

“Claude.” Aslen called out, but the boy didn’t answer. He seemed to be in deep thought, drowning out all background noise. Either that, or he chose to ignore the calls of his name.

“Claude.” Aslen spoke more firmly, but there was still no sign of affirmation. A sigh escaped his lips, and he called out once more.

“_Your Highness."_

The familiar tongue of Almyran struck Claude head on like a wave of arrows, striking his body in all the places that he didn’t know could hurt. His breath hitched in his throat, panic running through his veins and his body beginning to tremble. Someone knew. _ Someone knew. _

Without even thinking, Claude grabbed onto Aslen’s wrist, dragging the larger man into the closest alleyway. He glared at him, his breathing becoming erratic as words began to tumble out of his mouth.

“Don’t ever call me that again.” Claude hissed, “You tell no one of this.”

Aslen’s eyebrows raised. “So you don’t deny it?” he drawled lightly.

“Well, it’s too fucking late to argue, isn’t it?” Claude spat back, pacing back and forth.

“You made the grave error of telling us that you’re of mixed blood.” Aslen retorted lightly, keeping his composure. “Remember, I was born and raised in Almyra. I remember the news of the new queen from another nation very vividly. Lady Riegan is the only Fodlani that permanently resides in Almyra, and it’s not too hard to find the relationship between those with the same last name.”

Claude gritted his teeth. He hated how Aslen was right. He hadn’t planned for this, forgetting that there was an Almyran sitting right at that table with him. Anyone from Almyra would know about his mother being queen, and it would be easy to connect the dots. Those from Fodlan wouldn’t know, as they never knew where his mother ran off to begin with.

“I have no desire to share this information.” Aslen suddenly added, cutting the tense silence. “I would rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed or fighting that would arise from this news. Besides, I’m sure you already have a plan you’re working towards, aren’t you? Hopefully something about creating peace between Almyra and Fodlan?”

Gathering his thoughts, Claude let out a deep breath. “Good to see that not all Almyrans are just dense airheads.” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Seeing the corner of Aslen’s lips curl upwards was enough to ease the weight on his heart.

“Well, some of us just want this conflict to end.” Aslen placed his hand on his heart, giving a small bow. “Know that I wish to help you in any way that I can, Claude. I believe in you.” he declared, reminding the Riegan of Dedue’s mannerisms.

A smile finally found its way back on Claude’s face, and he beamed happily. “Well, then the first step is to help me find a birthday present!”

* * *

The dining hall was full of joyous talk and cheer, one table decorated with a multitude of streamers and balloons. Raphael’s birthday had come, and the cooks were gracious enough to allow the Golden Deer to celebrate, so long they made the food themselves.

Of course, the party wasn’t restricted to just the Deers. The Blue Lions had joined in as well, and so did a few of the Black Eagles. Today wasn’t a time to argue about the differences of their houses, but to celebrate a day of happiness.

In the end, Claude had not one, but two presents to give. One was a pair of silver gauntlets that he had bought, and the other was a small engraved wooden charm, courtesy of Talia, Darien, and Aslen. He had insisted that there was no need for them to do such a thing, but they pushed it into Claude’s hands, saying that, “they were feeling generous.”

After a hearty meal and some lovely cake baked by Mercedes, Ashe, and Dedue, it was finally time for the presents. Being the house leader, Claude had volunteered to go first.

“Happy birthday Raph!” he cheered, handing over two boxes. “It was sorta hard to pick a present, so I went for a practical route.” Claude smiled, watching Raphael open the larger of the two first.

“Holy Seiros!” he yelled, eyes wide as he pulled out the gauntlets. “These are silver gauntlets, aren’t they? Didn’t that cost a fortune?” he asked, marvelling at the shine and craftsmanship.

“I’d spend anything to make one of my beloved housemates happy.”

Raphael gently placed the gauntlets back into the box, not wanting to damage them before shifting his attention to the smaller box.

“Ah, that one’s a small gift from a few friends of mine, some of Jeralt’s mercenaries that I got close to. They were pretty insistent on getting a present for you when they caught wind of your birthday.”

The engraving of the charm was of a magnolia flower, painted delicately with skilled hands. “They say that magnolias mean perseverance, so I guess they’re telling you to keep up with the training and never give up.” Claude explained.

“That’s super nice of them! Please tell them thank you!” Raphael cheered, before being urged by Hilda to open her present.

While he could pass on the message to Aslen, sending it over to Talia and Darien would be a bit of a hassle. Claude would have to find out where the mercenaries would be, and send a letter in hopes that it would land in the right hands, either through a pigeon or messenger.

He pinched his arm, forcing himself to focus. It was Raphael’s birthday. No time to mope around or think about other things. Right now, all Claude had to do was to let himself free and have fun. With all the joy surrounding him, it was hard not to join in with a smile.

Contagious laughter rippled through the table, and a chuckle bubbled out of his throat. Right. Be happy. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

In the corner of his eye, Claude could have sworn that the silver gauntlets shimmered bright red, drenched in blood. Even as he quickly shut his eyes, all he saw was Raphael’s body draped over top of him, arrows littering his back and his heart seizing to beat.

_ “Why didn’t you save me, Claude?” _ Raphael rasped.

His eyelids shot open, staring at said man with fear. “W-What?” Claude managed to stutter out, aware of everyone’s gazes.

“I said, are you alright Claude?” Raphael spoke once more, looking at his house leader with worry. “You suddenly went silent.” he explained, and Claude just laughed nervously.

“Oh, I’m fine. I guess a bit light headed though. You don’t mind if I step outside for some air?” he asked and the brawler shook his head.

“Not at all! Go ahead.”

As soon as Raphael had given his word, Claude scrambled out of his seat, speed walking out the door and down the stairs to the fishing pond. He pressed himself against the stone wall, taking frantic deep breaths. He tried to think of other things, like the look that Dimitri had given him when he returned to the monastery with three mercenaries in tow, or the spar he had with Leonie in an attempt to learn how to use a spear.

Both memories ended up with Dimitri and Leonie killed in front of his eyes. He didn’t even know why he could see Dimitri’s death when Claude was never there to witness it in the first place.

He clutched his arms, tightly hugging himself. He wished that there was someone that he could embrace, to cry in their arms and be comforted. He wanted any sort of solace to cling onto and let himself be weak.

Instead, he calmed his beating heart, shoved his worries back into a box and locked them away once more. Stepping back up the stairs, Claude took a deep breath and went back to the party with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck yeah I love twilight princess so yes I had to add telma and her little kitty in
> 
> also the "gladiolus fought for his love iris" phrase makes more sense if you know what those two flowers mean. basically telma likes to tell claude to "have strength and hope" but makes it all fancy with flower meanings idk why I put that there I just did for no reason
> 
> telma might have a larger role later in the fic?? but i'm not quite sure yet
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	9. budding blooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude does his best to make new changes, even if this means discovering new feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE
> 
> sorry for a long wait, but the next chapter is finally here. not much in terms of plot but more exciting things are gonna happen next chapter! thank you for still sticking with this fic despite how long it takes for me to update TT 
> 
> (how do fic writers update every week?? maybe I should make chapters shorter)
> 
> also thank you for 2k+ hits!!

The Harpstring Moon ended rather peacefully, albeit with some bumps along the way.

While the Black Eagles were sent out to slay some bandits once more, the Golden Deer were given a simple escort mission. All they had to do was protect a caravan of Kingdom goods that were heading to the Alliance, just to Daphnel Territory.

The way there was uneventful, with no attacks and a straightforward path. Claude was able to reunite with Judith momentarily when they arrived, and she provided the students and troops with a safe place for the night and supplies for the way back.

If he recalled correctly, the bandit mission would be the Black Eagles’ first kills for most of them. As much as he wished that it wouldn’t happen so soon, the Golden Deer had theirs as well. They had spotted a group of thieves at the outskirts of Garreg Mach, and ended up taking care of them before they ran off. Claude could remember the look on everyone’s faces as each one made their kill. Some hid their grief well, others didn’t.

Being the house leader, Claude kept a calm air, a stoic face plastered on as he gathered up his housemates, guiding them away from the battlefield and back on the path to the monastery. It was just past dinner time once they had reached the gates, the sky streaked with pinks and purples as darkness began to cast itself. He had ordered everyone to wash off the grime and blood off and to rest, taking as much time as they needed to get their head straight.

Instead of following them, Claude made his way to the dining hall first, managing to catch the cooks in their clean up and tell them about the situation. They were understanding and got to work on cooking up more meals for the hungry students and knights that would soon be parading into the hall.

“Don’t be surprised if my Deers don’t eat much.” he explained, having grabbed some fruit from the counter as his own dinner. “A few… unexpected situations happened. Some blood was shed unwillingly.” Claude’s voice trailed off, his gaze drifting over to the window.

“No worries. Nothing some comfort food can’t fix for the time being.” The head chef gently patted Claude’s shoulder, her eyes looking at him with worry. “And you? You sure some fruit is enough?”

He just smiled, finishing off his last bite. “Yeah. I think something light would do me good for tonight.” he replied, and she nodded.

“Alright. You’re always free to come back if you’re hungry, we’ve always got one chef on night duty doing prep, he’d be happy to fix you something.”

“Will do!”

With a mock salute, he bid the staff goodnight, walking out of the hall with a some-what full stomach. Claude made a pitstop to his dorm to grab his clothes for the night, running into Dimitri on his way out of his room.

“Oh, are you back from your monthly mission?” the prince asked, just about to enter his room. “It went well, I hope?”

Claude gave a weak smile, closing his door. “Mission itself was fine. We ran into some mishaps on the way back.” he briefly explained, doing his best to avoid a blunt answer.

“Mishaps?...” Dimitri trailed off in confusion. However, with one look at Claude’s apprehension, he understood immediately. “Ah. Please give my well wishes to your class.” he muttered, his face turning horribly serious.

Claude hated how Dimitri’s eyes darkened significantly, his face reminiscent of his war-torn, ragged self. He knew that the Tragedy of Duscur was the beginning of this madness, so there was nothing to be done in regards to preventing it. This was Dimitri’s path, whether good or bad in the end.

Despite that, Claude felt compelled to help.

“Dimitri!” he called out lightly, making the prince stop to turn to him.

“If there’s ever something on your mind, just know that…” Claude trailed off, suddenly feeling unusually nervous, his face beginning to burn. “...That I’m always available for a chat. Or silent company. Anything to help out.” he murmured, averting his gaze.

_ Why am I feeling like this? _

Dimitri stifled his laughter, amused to see such a flustered face on Claude for the first time. It was kind of cute, if he had to be frank.

“I’ll be sure to take you up on your offer, Claude.” Dimitri answered, a wide smile on his face. “Goodnight.”

“G-Goodnight!”

As soon as Dimitri had entered his room and closed his door, Claude ran out of the dormitories, his heart beating wildly and his cheeks flushed. What the hell had just happened? He was lucky that no one was around to witness him so flustered and out of it. If any one of his Deers were here to see him, they’d tease him for days.

Even though his heart was originally taken by Byleth, there was a new contender who was just as good, and his name was Dimitri.

* * *

It had only taken Claude a few moments on the first day of the Garland Moon to realize that the whispers around the monastery had changed. What was once about himself had turned into something else, of harsh words and false assumptions.

_ “Can you believe that Lord Lonato is holding a rebellion against Lady Rhea?” _

_ “Goddess, he must be stupid to think he’ll get away with it.” _

_ “Wasn’t his son the one who planned to kill the king?” _

_ “Ugh, look at him.” _

_ “What, the commoner boy? What was his name, Ashe?” _

_ “I bet he’s just as rotten as his father.” _

It was only then that he remembered. The Garland Moon was the time when Lord Lonato had been killed. All the excitement about Claude’s father and the Black Eagles’ mission to the Red Canyon had died down in no time, replaced with nasty rumours. It had only been one day!

He couldn’t help but grit his teeth as he walked to class, unable to hide the anger that began to bubble up within him. Ashe didn’t deserve such treatment just because his adoptive father was acting up. Claude vaguely recalled how much Lonato’s death had affected the fellow archer, and he wanted to help a friend out.

“The fuck are you doing here, traitor!”

Claude jolted to his senses, looking ahead to see poor Ashe pushed up against a wall, a small group of students jeering and taunting at him. From the looks of it, they were fellow Blue Lion students, though it was hard to tell.

“Scum like you shouldn’t be wandering around!” another crowed, making everyone else laugh. 

Ashe was on the verge of tears, his hands trembling and his voice failing him. Each time he opened his mouth to speak, he would be spat at once more. Claude began to approach them, his hands clenching into fists and a dark shadow casted upon his eyes.

“Yeah, why don’t you just go die like your brother!”

Oh. That was it.

“Hey you guys!” Claude called out, putting on an air of calm and a smile on his face as he strolled up to the students.

“Huh? What the hell do you want?” one of them growled. Claude noticed that it was the same one that had shoved Ashe.

He kept his facade until he was just inches in front of them, stopping in place. In the blink of an eye, Claude had decked the student right in the face, feeling the crunch of their nose under his knuckles. The smile on his face was anything but friendly, a wild craze fueled by anger. He watched as they flew to the ground, the others staring in shock.

“You bitch!” the student screamed, stumbling to their feet as their hands fumbled to staunch the blood flowing out of their nostrils. “Fucking outsider! I should have known scum stick together.”

Claude laughed, unfazed by his own actions or the words being spat at him. This was nothing compared to the stuff he dealt with as a child. “My, aren’t you a mouthy brat. Why don’t you come a little closer so I can shut you up?” he grinned.

Another student suddenly flung themselves at Claude, but he easily stepped out of the way, grabbing onto their hair and smashing their face into the concrete pillar next to them. The rest that had originally been rearing to attack were now like deer caught in headlights.

“Any of you want more? I’d be happy to serve.” Claude taunted, his eyes piercing their gazes and his aura radiating bloodlust. None of them responded, too frightened to even speak. “No? Then scram!” he hissed.

With a cry of fear, the students scampered away, leaving nothing but a few drops of blood from their broken noses. Once they were out of sight, Claude took a deep breath, all signs of his anger disappearing in an instant.

“Are you alright, Ashe?” he asked, turning towards the Blue Lion. Said boy nodded, gently pushing himself off the wall. He was still shaken up by what he had seen, but looked better than before.

“T-Thank you, Claude. You didn’t have to do that.” Ashe mumbled, fumbling with his hands as he stared at the ground.

“It’s nothing. They have no right to do such a thing.” A grin formed on his lips, and Claude ruffled Ashe’s hair. “If stuff like that ever happens again, you can bet I’ll be there to teach em a lesson. I’ll even bring some of the Deers with me!”

A small laugh bubbled out of his throat, and Ashe stepped towards the Blue Lions’ classroom. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? But thank you for the gesture. I’ll repay you, I promise!” Giving a small bow, the freckled boy waved to Claude before heading inside.

With a sigh, Claude stared at the bloodstained floor for a few moments before continuing to his classroom. His knuckles throbbed in pain, but it was nothing he couldn’t shake off.

The next day, Ashe had gifted Claude a batch of cookies he had baked after classes had finished.

“Remember, I promised!” Ashe had said, placing them in his hands and running off before they could be given back. They were spectacular, but he wasn’t one for sweets. Claude ended up leaving some in Lysithea’s room, knowing that the young mage would surely eat them up in no time.

It continued for the next week, with Claude scaring off Ashe’s bullies and getting treats in return. The two archers started to grow close, chatting whenever they passed each other. There were a few times when they’d stumble upon each other in the library, quick to talk about books and stories to pass the time.

The number of bullies never seemed to diminish despite how many noses he broke. He was surprised that they never ratted him out to Seteth or Rhea about his behaviour, but word was beginning to spread.

“Even some of the knights are whispering about it, a little terror running around the monastery.” Aslen explained sometime in the middle of the Garland Moon, tending to the wyverns while Claude was on stable duty. “You may want to stay low for a bit.”

“And let Ashe get beat up? No way.” he replied, spreading fresh hay in the stall. “Unless you have another way to stop the rumours, I’ll keep on going. No matter how many times I do it, they never learn to stop.” Claude complained.

Stepping out of the stall, he set aside the pitchfork, walking towards the horse he had tethered outside temporarily. Aslen followed suit, leaning against the wall to watch. “Anyways, are you going to- BAH!”

Something hard struck the back of Claude’s head, rebounding off with a hoot and a flurry of feathers. Wincing, he rubbed the spot, feeling a bump beginning to form. Another hoot made its way to his ears, and Claude finally turned around to see an owl hovering in front of him, a letter attached to his leg.

“Oh, is this for me?” he murmured, allowing the bird to perch on his arm as he untied the ribbon. In the corner of his eyes, he could spot Aslen silently laughing at him, and Claude scowled. Once the letter was safely in his hands, the owl flew off.

“Dear Claude,” he began to read, squinting to read the messy writing. “We found an Anna on our way to Ordelia. She said that she would pass on your letter to another Anna in Deidriu to send to your grandfather. Send Aslen our love. From, Darien.”

A satisfied smile grew on Claude’s face, making Aslen narrow his eyes at him as he began to lead the horse towards the stables. “Here.” he muttered, passing the letter to Aslen before continuing with his duties. The Almyran took a quick look, swiftly skimming over the contents before folding it into a neat square.

“Am I allowed to ask what the purpose of this letter is?” the man mused, watching Claude finish up with his duties and lock the stall door. Dusting his hands on his pants, he took the letter back, burning it with a bit of magic.

“Nope!” he cheerily sang, though Claude figured that Alsen would figure it out himself.

Before he knew it, it was the end of the second week. The Golden Deer set off for their monthly mission, a simple task of rerouting bandits that were targeting a nearby village. While the thought of taking lives wasn’t one that was desired, Claude noticed that his classmates weren’t as hesitant as the first time. Nonetheless, they were still quite stressed and distraught by it.

The week after, Hilda decided to drag their entire class to weave flower garlands. “To release stress,” was what she said, but Claude knew that it also had to do with the month. The Garland Moon wasn’t called that for no reason, and while it was traditionally women who gifted them, who said that men couldn’t partake in it either?

If he had to be honest, it was a fun day. They all sat in the grass in front of the classrooms, piles of white roses in front of them as they wove and chatted. Claude quickly took to the task, learning quickly from Marianne’s careful guidance. Petra and Dorothea had joined in as well after seeing the group huddled together, excited to learn.

_ A shame Ashe isn’t here_, Claude thought to himself. The boy was skilled with his hands, and this would have been nice for him to partake in in order to distract him from the worry about Lonato. Alas, the Blue Lions were on their monthly mission that week, so Claude set aside a garland for the archer.

As soon as he was done with one for Ashe, Claude set off to weave another garland, not before leaving to grab some more roses.

“Hm? Why blue?” Hilda asked, seeing Claude sit down with a basket of said roses.

“Just plain old white gets boring. Who says that we gotta stick to white roses all the time? It’s nice to have some colour every once in awhile.” Claude answered nonchalantly, but the pink haired girl narrowed her eyes at him.

“Alright, if you say so.”

Claude took more care with this garland than the last, making sure that it was made perfectly. If the blue roses weren’t already a big enough hint, the fact that he had completely zoned out of the conversation meant something else.

This one was for a lover.

Well, not quite a lover. But for someone he admired. And for poor Claude, Hilda figured it out in no time.

“So, who’s the lucky person?” she had asked, the two of them walking back to their rooms with their garlands in hand.

“I was going to give one to Ashe. He’s been having a rough time these days, and-”

“No no! I meant the other one!” she interrupted, and Claude shut his mouth instantly. A devious look dawned upon Hilda’s face, and she quickly pulled Claude into her room, closing the door for some privacy.

“You have to spill. Who is it? Sylvain? Or maybe Mercedes? Do you have a type for older people?” she eagerly questioned as she sat him down on her bed, making Claude frantically wave his hands at her.

“Hilda, what the fuck!” he hissed, “It’s nothing like that!” Despite his denial, his face grew hot. Curse his body for betraying him.

“Oh my Goddess.” Hilda squealed, sitting down in a chair across from Claude. “Oh. My. Fucking. Goddess.” She leaned in, eyeing Claude.

“It’s Dimitri.”

He didn’t answer, suddenly very interested in Hilda’s carpet. “Holy shit, you like Dimitri! This is hilarious!” she crowed, and Claude hissed at her.

“Lower your voice!”

Hilda continued to laugh, doing nothing to hide the amusement on her face. “I should have known! I’ve seen how you look at him whenever he walks past, and don’t think that I didn’t notice how you went to go send the Blue Lions off on their mission. You’re fucking infatuated with him.”

If he had to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he could call himself “in love” with Dimitri quite yet. He was handsome, yeah, but so were many other people at the Academy. He wasn’t going to list names, but he’d be lying if he said that no one made his heart skip a beat.

Perhaps it was pity that was making him feel this way. Having the knowledge that Dimitri would end up going crazy before being killed in five years time made Claude feel bad for the prince. Maybe he was banking on a chance that getting close to him would change something.

Maybe it was because Claude was in denial, that Byleth had gone to Edelgard’s side once more. That Dimitri was just someone for Claude to rebound off of. Both options made him feel sick inside. He didn’t want to have feelings for someone because of those reasons.

“I feel bad.” Claude muttered. “It feels like I’m just using him to gain power.”

Hilda’s eyes softened, her laughter coming to a stop. “Don’t say something like that.” she murmured, taking on a more maternal stance. “If you were just using him to gain power, would you really go out of your way to make such a special garland for him?” she questioned.

_ Yes _, Claude thought. Knowing his own nature, he’d do anything to gain respect, even if that meant deceiving someone for years on end.

Instead, Claude shook his head, his gaze meeting Hilda’s as he plastered on a small smile. “I guess you’re right.” he whispered. Sitting up from her mattress, he gave a little wave before leaving her room.

Rather than going straight to his own, Claude quickly stopped by Dimitri’s, setting the garland he made on the table. The Lions would be returning sometime tomorrow, so he hoped it would be a nice surprise to return to. Ashe’s room was down near Byleth’s, so he decided to drop by early in the morning before they arrived. He set himself to work writing notes to go along with the garlands.

Claude ended up falling asleep at his desk that night, crumpled paper littered everywhere and his fingers stained with ink.

* * *

It was just around midday when the Blue Lions returned from their mission. Luckily, there were no major injuries, just a few scrapes and bruises. It was surprising to the others to see Claude waiting for them at the entrance of the monastery, engulfing Ashe in a friendly embrace. They never knew that they had become close friends.

Claude and Ashe instantly got themselves in a conversation, and while the silver haired boy was seemingly oblivious, the rest of the Blue Lions didn’t miss the sight of the former glaring at other students occasionally. By the time they had reached the stairs to the second floor, they managed to piece things together.

He was distracting Ashe. Not from any sort of surprise that Claude himself had formulated, but from any possible whispers from students that were badmouthing Lonato. It was a bit unusual, but appreciated nonetheless.

They had split ways from there, Claude giving his farewells and striding off to Goddess knew where while the Blue Lions headed to the audience chamber to give their mission report to Lady Rhea. After a few words of appreciation and gratitude from the woman herself, they were finally dismissed and allowed to rest.

Ashe returned to his room as quickly as possible, wanting to wash up and sleep the rest of the day away to regain his strength. With his brain so scattered, he almost didn’t notice the garland that sat on his desk, a small note sitting on top.

Curious, he picked up the small slip of paper, reading it to himself.

_ ‘I know traditionally women give garlands, but who says men can’t! Here’s to my good friend and fellow archer. _

_ \- Claude.’ _

A smile grew on Ashe’s face as he placed the note down, picking up the garland. It was well crafted and sturdy, and after a few moments of struggle, he managed to hang it above his desk. The thought of seeing Claude make a flower garland amused him, and Ashe was disappointed to have missed such a sight.

He had never expected to become friends with Claude in such a small amount of time. Ashe remembered how just the month before, the heir seemed like such a cryptic and sly character to him. Claude’s well intentions weren’t expected, and it seemed like Ashe was one of the few that knew about them.

Gathering his clean clothes, the boy walked off to the bathhouse with a bounce in his step.

On the second floor, Dimitri entered his room, already beginning to unbuckle his gauntlets and armour. He would probably end up wearing them again for a late-night training session, but all he wanted to do at the moment was relax in the bath.

The prince was so absorbed in his thoughts, his gaze had passed right over the flower garland that sat on his desk. It took him a few moments to register the foreign object, and his eyes snapped back to it. As Dimitri stepped towards it, he admired how bright the blue roses were against the white, reminding him not only his house colours, but the banners of the Blaidyyd crest that hung along the walls of his home back in Fhirdiad.

Carefully, he picked up the note that rested on top, the corners smudged with ink-stained fingerprints.

_ ‘From one house leader to another. I hope you enjoy the garland. _

_\- Claude_

_ P.S. Feel free to drop by my room whenever you can’t sleep. I’m usually awake reading, so don’t be afraid to knock on my door.’ _

The note was… intriguing to say the least. Bold, if he had to describe it. He already knew about the offer that Claude had waged just a week prior, and now it was looking more appealing than ever. There was something weighing on his mind. Even though their mission went as well as it could have been, it didn’t sit right with Dimitri.

In fact, none of the missions ever sat well with him. He had the notion that they were going to get even worse as the months progressed.Sure, this was an officers’ academy, but sending a group of teens and young adults who were unaccustomed to the world to go quell a rebellion? What kind of thinking was that?

Dimitri wondered if Claude thought the same.

Grabbing his clothes for the night, Dimitri set off for the bathhouse, making a mental note to visit Claude if he was awake. For his entire bath, he kept on thinking of the garland and its blue roses. The prince was sure that he was overthinking the meaning of it. No doubt it was a friendly gesture, and that the colour was because it was practically the same as the royal Faerghus blue.

But blue roses meant unattainable love.

Was this some sort of secret confession of Claude’s? Perhaps he knew that because he was to be Duke and Dimitri the king, that he could never have him? Goddess, did Claude even know what blue roses meant?

Dimitri sank deeper into the hot water of the bath, closing his eyes. Why was he freaking out about such a trivial thing? Yeah, Claude was quite pretty, with his emerald eyes and stunning smile, and-

He caught his thoughts rather quickly, feeling his face heat up. Dimitri opened his eyes, looking around to see if there was anyone in the bath with him. Luckily for the prince, it was just him. Everyone else had already left to go get dinner.

He quickly dunked his head underwater for a few moments before surfacing, clambering out of the bath to go dry off and dress himself. Yeah, dinner sounded good right about now, even if Dimitri couldn’t even taste anything to begin with.

Surprisingly, as he entered the dining hall and lined up to grab his share of food, there was no sign of Claude in the room. All of the Golden Deer were present as far as he could tell, but their leader was nowhere to be seen. Dimitri shrugged it off for the time being, moving his attention to Sylvain waving him over.

The Blue Lions made small talk, primarily being Annette and Mercedes doing most of the talking while Ingrid chastised Sylvain in the background. However, the four of them weren’t as lively as usual. It was clear that they were still quite tired from their mission.

Eventually, the Golden Deer joined in, their liveliness and cheer slowly spreading to everyone. There was something about those Leicester Alliance students that made anyone get along together.

Dimitri picked at the last of his pheasant roast, watching Hilda and Mercedes talk about… well, whatever girls usually talked about. He would have loved to butt in and ask the pink haired girl where Claude was, but it felt intrusive. Claude could hold his own, there was no need for him to worry so much.

Right at that moment, Mercedes spoke up, allowing Dimitri to listen in on their conversation. “You know, I haven’t seen Claude at all other than when we came back. Is he alright?” she asked. Dimitri internally thanked Mercedes.

“Oh, Mr. Leader Man is doing alright, don’t worry! He slacked off on a paper Professor Manuela assigned that’s due tomorrow, so he’s in his room finishing it off.” Hilda explained, sneaking a glance at Dimitri and winking at him.

Ah, so she knew that he was worried. As lazy as she seemed, the Goneril had a penchant for observation. Carefully, Dimitri’s gaze lowered to where the girl was resting her hands on the table and watched as she shooed him off.

“I think I’ll be heading back to my room.” Dimitri announced, standing from his seat with his dishes in hand. “All of you should as well, it’s been a long day.” After handing his plate over to the cooks, he bid his classmates good night and left the dining hall.

The sky was beginning to darken, the sun setting a soft glow over the entire monastery. It wasn’t too late in the evening, perhaps 7 o’clock at the latest, but the early bath and fatigue still set deep in his muscles made it feel like it was late at night. He hadn’t noticed how much his eyelids were drooping until he settled into his bed, falling asleep immediately.

Dimitri jolted awake a few hours later, the weariness in his muscles still present and his thoughts plagued by unwanted memories and voices. He should have known that he wouldn’t get much rest tonight. Nights after missions were always rough.

He took a few moments to compose himself, calming his racing heart and getting his breathing to a steady pace. For a moment, he looked over at his gauntlets and armour resting on the floor, and thought about going out to train. However, his eyes naturally shifted to the garland still sitting on his desk. Claude’s offer suddenly felt _ very _ appealing, more so than earlier in the day.

Pulling himself out of bed, Dimitri scrounged around on his desk, finding the book he had been reading a few days prior. Tucking it safely under his arm, the prince silently left his room and walked a few steps towards Claude’s room, careful not to wake Felix as he passed. He pushed down any nervous jitters and knocked softly on the door.

A few seconds passed before it opened, and out popped Claude, a tired look on his face. He didn’t seem too surprised to see Dimitri at his door, but by his wide eyes as he brushed his hair back, his presence certainly wasn’t expected.

“Oh, Dimitri. Come in.” Claude murmured, being careful not to wake anyone as he stepped back. Dimitri, however, stayed put where he was standing. He didn’t even question his appearance! Hell, what if he were some assassin, what then?

“Are you not coming in?” Their gazes met, and the prince quickly let himself in, closing the door behind him. Claude’s bedroom wasn’t quite what he thought it was, with books everywhere and parchment scattered along his desk and bed. There was a uniformity to it though, and created a more homely feel to the room rather than the typical empty dorm rooms provided. A bit like his father’s old study.

Claude began to shift around the papers and books sitting on his bed, clearing up half of his bed. “Make yourself comfortable.” the Golden Deer leader gestured, moving about his room to grab a pot and some teacups. “I’m just going to quickly grab some water for some tea. You enjoy chamomile, don’t you?” he asked. Dimitri just nodded, carefully sitting down on the empty part of the bed.

While his fellow house leader was out of the room, Dimitri glanced over at the hastily stacked papers resting on the pillow. It was written in what he presumed was Claude’s handwriting, and further examination told him that it was about white magic and healing.

Despite knowing little to nothing about Faith or Reason, the way Claude had worded everything made it easy to understand and genuinely interesting, making Dimitri want to learn more. He moved the piece of parchment closer to his face, trying to make out the loopy handwriting.

“Interested, are you?” Claude called out as he walked back into his room, the smell of tea slowly filling the room. Dimitri quickly dropped the paper in his shock, but he was met with laughter. “Oh, feel free to read it, your Princeliness. I did all of this today and I’m still not done, so I haven’t had the time to read it over for mistakes.”

Dimitri gaped at the stack of papers, taking the whole pile in his hands. “All of this? Goddess, how many pages is this?” he exclaimed, flipping through to count.

“Eh, around ten? I woke up late today, so not as much as I thought I would get done. Maybe another page or so left to write.” Claude answered, being ever so nonchalant about it as he grabbed a chair to set the tea on.

“Ten? And that’s what you call “not that much?” Goddess Claude, how much do you know about Faith magic to begin with?” Dimitri questioned, reorganizing them in order.

Claude settled himself in on the other side of the bed, crossing his legs. “Ah, my good friend. This is what you call in layman’s terms, bullshitting.” he grinned. “I use way too many words and explain everything in such an extensive manner so that Professor Manuela gives up reading through it all and gives me an A!”

Instead of giving a reply, Dimitri set his book aside, taking around half the pages to read. On the other hand, Claude poured their cups of tea, before going back to finishing up his assignment. They fell into a comfortable silence, the only noise being the rustle of paper or the clink of glass. Occasionally, Dimitri would speak up, asking Claude about a sentence here or a paragraph there.

“_The more you use Faith to heal, the more brittle and fragile the body gets? _” the prince muttered halfway through the entire stack, looking to Claude for an explanation.

“It means that you’re more prone to injuries because the body isn’t able to properly make new cells in a natural way. Basically, it forgets how to. Larger bruises can form from a simple bump on a table corner, and the joints can get sore from just a little bit of heavy lifting. Professor Manuela drilled this into our heads on the first day, telling us that any small injuries should never be healed through Faith magic and that we get bandages or ice.” he explained, reaching to his left to grab a book. “This book was pretty helpful in most of my information.”

The cover was of thick leather, and was very unfamiliar in Dimitri’s eyes. It was quite thick too, but he was sure that he had never seen it in the monastery library before. Perhaps a personal book brought from Leicester?

Before he knew it, Dimitri was sucked into a long winded explanation about the body’s anatomy and the effects of overexposure to Faith magic. Claude had shuffled closer to him, book in hand as he gently talked about muscular degradation and how bones became more brittle.

To be honest, Dimitri wasn’t into those sorts of things, but hearing Claude talk so passionately about it put a smile on his face. His voice was soothing and kept him oddly at ease. Plus, he was able to learn a few new things at the same time. The way his eyes shimmered with excitement and the smile that Claude gave whenever Dimitri understood was something he hadn’t noticed were so beautiful before.

It wasn’t long until they were pressed up right against each other, shoulders touching as they poured over the book together. The longer they read, the more sleepy the two boys got. Soon enough, both had curled up against each other, fast asleep.

Dimitri didn’t dream of any voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically finals swept me away in january, and then february was adjusting to my new semester and getting more hours for work. there are days where I have closing shifts so I don't write as much on those days, plus with added writers block everything sorta went to a grinding halt
> 
> now that i'm feeling more comfortable with my schedule I should have some more motivation to write again!
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	10. hearts of gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude's birthday comes around. He forgot about it. But hey, at least there's tea time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead bois lets go
> 
> the rite was supposed to be this chapter but I went ham on birthday claude soooo that'll be next chapter
> 
> I did add angst!! don't u worry about it we ain't going a road of just fluff

In the hushed silence of night, Claude stared at the entrance of the Holy Mausoleum.

He had always wondered why the entrance to such a holy place was just sitting right in the cathedral for everyone to see. Sure, there were guards stationed there all throughout the day, but anyone could learn their rotations and sneak in. Or come in at night, which was exactly what Claude had done.

It was now the Blue Sea Moon, which meant that the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth was upon them. Just as he remembered, the Black Eagles came back from their mission with a letter in hand from Lonato’s corpse, explaining the plan of an assassination on Rhea. As such, security had been heightened all around the monastery, and the houses were tasked with helping out during the Rite.

Claude already knew what was going to happen, but where was the fun in revealing it to the others prematurely?

The door to the Mausoleum was firmly locked, and there was nothing that showed a secret entrance or path inside of it. It didn’t seem easy to pick, and though Claude prided in his lock picking skills, this one would take too long.

Breaking inside was now checked off his list of ways to infiltrate.

After a few more moments of standing and observing, Claude decided to call it quits and return to his room, lest he got caught by the night patrol. The only way to get in and witness Byleth obtaining the Sword of the Creator was to head in whilst the Rite was taking place.

The Mausoleum would be unlocked for the Rite, and stayed unlocked while Rhea was doing her little ceremony. Security would be compromised in order to guard the archbishop. That was how those intruders got in to begin with, after all. It seemed like Claude would become one of those intruders as well.

Arriving safely in his room, instead of heading straight to bed, Claude grabbed his book on Faith and began to read. Lessons this month were less focused on theory and more on practical skills, but he still kept up with it. All the professors were making sure that their students were in top shape to fight in case the time called for it during the Rite. The last week of classes were postponed in order to prepare for the event.

Manuela had started lessons on Faith with him early in the month. The paper he handed in convinced her that he had a budding talent in Faith, and was determined to at least teach him how to Heal. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t struggling just a little bit. To use Faith magic required, well, faith.

At the moment, Claude didn’t have much faith in anything.

(Turned out she read the whole paper, instead of giving up like Claude had hoped. He still got an A though.)

It had similar concepts to Reason, but the whole schick about having faith in something to heal was foreign to him. It made sense as to why Marianne was their healer, with her strong attachment and devotion to the Goddess. Of course, Claude could believe in anything he wanted, so long as it was strong enough. Nothing worked, though.

As he flipped through the book, skimming through the contents he already read, his fingers stopped at one of the pages. A piece of paper fluttered out, landing on his lap. Unfolding it, Claude was met with familiar writing scrawled in black ink.

_ ‘Stay safe during the Rite. Considering how the Black Eagles are scoping out the cathedral, why don’t we combine our forces to keep an eye on the main grounds?’ _

A small smile grew on Claude’s face, and he scrambled to find a scrap piece of parchment and some charcoal to respond.

_ ‘Sounds great. We’ll think of a more detailed plan soon.’ _

Ever since their little bonding night, Claude and Dimitri had taken to passing Claude’s book back and forth between themselves, leaving little notes and communicating through them. It had proven to be very helpful, allowing them to avoid suspicion. (And any teasing from their housemates.)

He wasn’t able to get close to Dimitri back then, or to any of the Blue Lions for that matter. It was nice to look past the first impressions and war-tainted fronts to get to know their true selves. It proved useful for recon, and having knowledge of a future yet to come provided lots of material for blackmail in case there was rejection.

Sneaking out of his room, Claude tiptoed past Felix’s room, standing in front of Dimitri’s door. He gently rested the book against the door, leaving it for the prince to collect. He’d be up early as per usual, eliminating the worry of anyone else taking the book instead.

With that, Claude went to bed.

_ Two days left until the Rite. _

* * *

“Wakey wakey, birthday boy!”

The door to Claude’s room burst open, an excited pink haired girl letting herself in and jumping on top of said person. With a grunt, Claude groggily opened his eyes, cursing at the sunlight that streamed in from the window across his room.

“Hilda, what the fuck?” he groaned, sitting up and lightly shoving her away. She smiled at him widely, eyes shimmering with joy.

“What do you mean? It’s your birthday, leader man! We have to celebrate as much of it as we can!” she exclaimed, throwing off the covers. Standing up, Hilda began to rummage through his closet, looking at the miniscule selection of clothes. “Gosh, you have nothing in here!”

Claude simply sat there half asleep, letting her do all the work while his mind began drifting off again. His birthday… He forgot that it was today. He was so caught up with the Rite that he hadn’t even realized that it was his birthday month.

Just as he was about to flop back onto his bed, one of his button up shirts was thrown at his face, as well as a pair of trousers.

“Go put those on. I’ll be waiting outside for you.” Grumbling to herself, Hilda walked out and closed the door in her wake. Another yawn escaped his lips, and with heavy limbs, Claude got himself dressed.

As he tucked his shirt in his pants, he thought about the times he celebrated his birthday. The ones in Almyra were foggy, and he vaguely remembered being given a small present from his grandfather the year he moved into Fodlan. Byleth gave him flowers and had a small tea party during his student days.

He had no time to celebrate during the war. In fact, he had forgotten how old he was during those times. Claude would joke around with Hilda, saying that he was like some 40 year old man, but by Seiros did it feel like it. Those five years of war had merged together seamlessly, and Claude was so fatigued by everything that he had no sense of time at all.

How old was he when he died? Maybe his late 20s or early 30s? If he was turning 18 now, then…

“Oh.” he softly whispered to himself. “_ Oh. _”

Realization struck him hard, and Claude let out a shaky breath. He was only 23 when he died. Was he always that young? Sure, the war was only five years, but it felt like an eternity. He could have had at least another 30 years left to live, but all of it was ripped from him by an axe to his neck.

His fingers trembled, struggling to roll his sleeves as his mind started on another tangent. Hilda would have been around the same age as him, and- _ Oh Goddess, _ Lysithea was barely 20? Claude knew that she didn’t have long to live to begin with, but that was so young. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a bang on his door. “Claude?” Hilda called out. “Are you done yet?”

“Y-Yeah! I’m coming out right now!” he yelled back. Taking a deep breath, he bit down any more tremors and opened his door. Hilda turned to look at him, eyes scanning up and down before letting out a low whistle.

“It looks great, surprisingly. You could rival Sylvain if you really wanted to.” she winked, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. Taking his hand, she dragged him along the hallway. “Come on! We’ve got a full day ahead of us! A package arrived from your grandfather, and Professor Byleth wants to have tea with you in the afternoon. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

Tea with Byleth? “Yeah! It really does.” he answered, a small smile forming. Maybe this birthday wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The first half of the day flew by in a blur, being dragged to and fro from different places. First to the dining hall, then to the greenhouse. As soon as one person was done with him, another would come and whisk him away. It was hectic, but being doted on for the entire day was nice.

Breakfast was filled with lively chatter and many students wishing him a happy birthday. Even Edelgard had given her congratulations, to which Claude gave a forced grin. The cooks were extra generous with his portion of breakfast, and even Raphael offered to give him more food from his own plate.

As soon as they were done, Ashe intervened and quickly took him to the greenhouse, showing him a new plot of soil that was currently growing a new batch of flowers.

“I know you make little concoctions all the time, so I wanted to give you your own plot to grow whatever you needed! Dedue helped me pick out a few seeds to start you off.” Ashe explained, gesturing to the small sprouts that were poking their heads through.

“Thanks a lot, you two! I really mean it. You didn’t have to go out of your way just for me.” Claude said, crouching down to take a closer look. Foxgloves and datura. Huh. Of all things, they chose poisonous flowers. Well, at least that was less work for Claude.

“It’s nothing.” Dedue spoke up, “Think of it as my thanks for being so kind to His Highness.”

He perked up at the mention of Dimitri’s title. “His Princeliness? Didn’t know he talked about me.” Claude muttered. “Anyways,” he started, standing up to face the two of them, “thank you for the present. This’ll definitely be useful.” His infamous grin spread on his lips, Claude said his farewells and left the two Lions to their own business.

There was still an hour before lunch. Aslen wanted to treat him to a meal down at Telma’s and grab him a gift at the market. Luckily, no one else was waiting to drag him away outside the greenhouse. Now rewarded with his own time to spend, Claude decided to head to the library. It seemed unconventional, but there were a few more books that he wanted to look for before he forgot.

As Claude made his way to the second floor, he stumbled upon Jeralt in his office. The man waved the boy into his room, ruffled his hair like he was a five year old, and handed him a small box.

“It’s your birthday, ain’t it kid? I know I shouldn’t be picking favourites, but I’m sure just a little something is fine.” Jeralt explained, the smile on his face looking a bit… odd.

Curious to know what was inside, Claude opened the box up to reveal-

“You gave me a bottle of scotch.” Claude deadpanned, holding up the bottle by the neck. “Sir, I’m only 18, need I remind you.”

“You can hold your drink. Darien told me all about it before you left.” Jeralt grinned at him, knowing full well that Claude couldn’t argue against him. He wasn’t a scotch person, more used to shitty wine or whiskey if he could afford it during the war, but it would make do.

“Hey old man, once I turn 19, we’ll be able to have nice bonding tea parties over some whiskey. How’s that sound? My treat.” he joked, and Jeralt laughed.

“Sounds good!” With a salute, Claude walked out of the captain’s office, hearing him yell one more thing before he turned out. “Remember, if Seteth finds that, you tell him I had nothing to do with it!”

He placed the scotch back inside the box, shutting the lid. Claude sped over to the library, thankful that there weren’t many people inside. Looking up to the second floor, he met Tomas’ gaze, who gave him a nod. Even though he knew that the librarian was actually some weird creepy old guy who was involved with the death of Jeralt, he still tried to suck up to him. As a result, Claude was granted access to the second floor of the library whenever Tomas was available.

“Word has spread that it’s your birthday today.” Tomas greeted, giving him a kind smile. “Congratulations, my boy. I see you have a present.” The librarian raised his eyebrows at the box in Claude’s hand.

“Thank you. And yes, this is from a friend I just passed by. They’re pretty busy at the moment, all they did was press it into my arms and run off.” Claude lied, turning away to look at the books. He wouldn’t be lying if looking at Tomas just made him want to stick his dagger in his neck and call it quits.

Tomas let out a small chuckle, turning back to the shelves as well. “I’ve noticed you’ve been interested in Reason, these days.” he spoke, smoothly changing the topic. “I found a book that you might like.” The old man began to walk to another shelf, plucking out a book to present to Claude.

Similar to the book he had on Faith, it was a thick, leather bound book with no title or fancy lettering on the front. Just by looking at the yellow and frayed pages, he could tell that it was chock full of useful information.

“You have my thanks.” Claude pursed his lips, gingerly taking the book out of Tomas’ hands.

“It’s yours to keep permanently. There’s a reason why Seteth has taken to putting it up here in the restricted section.”

From those words, Claude’s eyes widened. “Now you definitely have my thanks. All of them, in fact.” he managed to croak out, handling the book as if he were given a newborn.

“A mere birthday gift.” was all Tomas replied with, before turning his focus back to his tasks.

Taking it as a sign to leave, Claude gently padded down the stairs and out of the library. He ran past Seteth’s office and to the first floor, not wanting to be caught with two items that weren’t allowed in his possession.

After dumping both items under his bed as a temporary safekeeping spot, Claude met Aslen at the gates. The two of them went out for lunch as promised, discussing a multitude of topics and occasionally the hushed sentence in Almyran. Telma eventually joined their table, slapping Claude on the back and scolding him for not telling her when his birthday was. She rushed back to the counter, only to return with a slice of carrot cake, free of charge.

Despite Claude telling him that the meal alone was enough of a present, Aslen gestured to the marketplace once they left Telma’s place. “Pick whatever you want.” he spoke, the rare hint of a smile on his face. There was a brotherly warmth in his words, and Claude vaguely remembered that Aslen once had a younger brother.

In the end, Claude walked over to a jeweler’s stall and asked Aslen to pick out something for him. He chose a dog tag necklace with the engraving of an hourglass, paying for it and hanging it around Claude’s neck gently.

Taking a look at the engraving, Claude huffed. A nice, subtle reminder that time was in fact _ not _ on his side. “ _ Thank you _.” he muttered, and Aslen ruffled his hair.

“_You’re welcome. Happy birthday. _”

With no one else on the road as they walked back to the monastery, the two Almyrans switched from Fodlani to Almyran smoothly. Claude’s native language felt thick on his tongue, having barely spoken a word of it since he arrived in Fodlan, but it came to him quickly. He had forgotten how comforting the language was.

When they began nearing the monastery, Aslen switched back to Fodlani, Claude following his lead. By the time they reached the front gates, the warm feeling in his chest was gone.

The Gatekeeper greeted them warmly, giving his regards to Claude in his usual cheery voice. He repeated the same actions he did for everyone else that day, a smile and word of thanks.

They walked out of the main hall and crossed to the reception, light banter flowing between them when a voice made their presence. Byleth intercepted their path, greeting Aslen and Claude. The latter noted how Byleth’s manner of speech, albeit the little speaking he did, changed to be more rough and casual. A habit from the mercenaries, he presumed.

“Claude, would you like to join me for tea?” he asked, and Claude quickly nodded.

“I’d love to, Teach!” he exclaimed, a somewhat genuine smile forming on his lips. He hastily thanked Aslen once more, giving a childish grin as he flaunted the necklace before turning back to Byleth.

The two of them made their way through the grounds, weaving through the monks, nuns, and the occasional student. Eventually, Claude found himself staring at a single tea table set up with an assortment of treats and of course, tea. He hadn’t remembered that the location was in the knight’s quarters, but it was away from any nosy students.

Byleth gestured to the chairs, waiting for Claude to take a seat first before mimicking his actions.

“Happy birthday.” the professor remarked, pouring out a cup of tea for his student. A strong scent filled the air, and Claude was pleased to find out that it was chamomile.

“Thank you, Teach. It isn’t every day that I get to sit down and have tea with my popular professor.” he answered, the words flowing out of his mouth before he even had the time to think about them. Well shit. Too late to stop now. “I’m still sad that you didn’t choose to teach us Deers. I do hope the Eagles are treating you well.” His words were said in jest, but he couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped through.

Byleth sipped his tea. “They’re fine.”

It continued for a short time, Claude asking questions and spurring conversation, and Byleth giving short answers back. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was better than nothing. They talked about lesson plans, the Rite, strategies; a plethora of different topics when Claude suddenly shifted it.

“Say, Teach.” he started, setting down his cup of tea. “This is purely hypothetical, but what would you do if a war started in Fodlan?”

Byleth stared at Claude blankly, not knowing what to say. “By all means, it’s possible.” he continued, “The Empire hasn’t had good relations with the Church, or any of the other nations to begin with. Faerghus has had some spats with Adrestia, and Leicester is pretty neutral.”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this, Claude.” Byleth murmured, leaning back in his chair.

Claude played with his fingers in his lap, his gaze drifting off to the tall hedges. “What I’m trying to say is, would you be willing to fight us? Your students? I know you only teach one house, but surely there must be some sort of bond to the others that'll be made during the time at the Academy. Would you cut us down for the sake of whoever’s side you take?”

Byleth didn’t reply immediately, instead observing Claude. Not only was his question painfully specific, but his body language screamed of a tired soldier. Eyes glazed over in thought, shoulders stiff and ready to move at any sudden movement. It was similar to how Jeralt would act back when Byleth was young, asking about his mother.

Empty.

The professor didn’t think for long, replying with a short and simple answer.

“I would.” _ I’m not afraid of killing you, even with your status. _

By all means, Byleth expected Claude to be angry. To argue a point about how heartless he was, or that saving them was an option. Truth be told, he wasn’t close with any of the students other than the Eagles, and Claude was no exception. He had only invited him out to tea as a kind gesture.

Instead, Claude turned back to look at him, a faint smile on his lips.

“I would too.” _ I won’t hesitate either. _

Byleth blinked, and suddenly Claude had his elbows up on the table, hands laced together and a playful smirk on his face. “Anyways, I don’t hope that you’ve gotten me a present for my birthday? Is it flowers? Or were you hoping that the tea party was enough of a present?” he snarked. “How wonderful of you to present me with your time for my birthday, I’m flattered.”

Claude wasn’t planning on sounding like- well, like a bitch. Pent up frustrations from over five years of war did amazing on his ability of not keeping his damn mouth shut. The snarkier he was, the more intimidated the roundtable nobles were, and he sure as hell abused it.

Byleth had the hint of annoyance in his eyes despite the stoic face. “I did get you a present, believe it or not.” he retorted lightly, reaching under the table to grab a box.

“Oh, and it isn’t just because I’m a house leader?” A flicker of rage. Claude winced internally. “But thank you.” He took the box placed on the table, opening it up. Inside, a bottle of dried flowers stared back at him, sealed tightly with a cork and wound with string.

“They’re moonflowers. The gang was up near Fodlan’s Throat for a bit helping the Gonerils, Darien sent them over. I asked him if he could get any poisonous plants for you, and here we are.” Byleth explained.

Moonflowers flourished in hot climates. They were abundant in Almyra, but once Claude had moved to the Alliance, their appearance dwindled. How nice of Byleth to know that he was a fan of poisons and medicine. He assumed that Darien had briefly talked about it, like he did with Jeralt.

Point taken: Darien had a mouth he couldn’t shut.

“Wow… This is really helpful. I mean it.” There was a fire in his eyes that wasn’t present before, and Byleth noted how Claude seemed less tense. “I’ve heard that moonflowers do some real nasty things when ingested.”

“Darien left a note about its properties.” the mercenary muttered. Claude dug under the straw cushioning to find a folded slip of paper.

“Thank you very much, Teach! I haven’t gotten presents from any of the Deer yet, but I’m sure that this one knocks them all out.”

Byleth didn’t know what to respond with, his brain trying to catch up with all of the sudden mood changes. Sure, his words sounded genuine, but with how he was acting up earlier, he had no idea which one was the real Claude. Or were they all just acts?

“Claude.” he called out, making said student look up at him. “Have you been getting enough sleep?” he asked.

The fire in his eyes dimmed.

“Hm? Yeah, I have. Why?” Claude asked back.

A sigh escaped Byleth’s lips. “Nothing. Just wondering.”

Once he was done ogling at his present, Claude placed the box in his lap, spurring up another conversation with Byleth. The professor played along with him, answering questions and speaking his mind every once in a while. Before they knew it, the shadows began to stretch, the sky emitting a glow of gold.

“I think it’s just about time for dinner.” Byleth interrupted, taking out a pocket watch to look at the time. “You should get going. The Golden Deer aren’t going to wait forever for you to open presents.”

Claude grinned, a jolt of excitement running through him. “You’re right. I’ll see you later then, Teach?”

Byleth nodded.

Finishing off the last of his tea, Claude bid his professor farewell, striding out of the pavilion. As soon as he was out of sight, the smile on his face faded, but he kept the shine in his eyes. He kept inside the knight’s quarters, heading to the mailroom. Sure, his friends were waiting for him at the dining hall, but there was a package he needed to grab first.

As he rounded the corner to the small building, a few cats resting atop the stacked crates lifted their heads, jumping down to follow. They meowed lightly at him, rubbing themselves against Claude’s ankles. He stopped in his path, tucking Byleth’s present under his arm before picking up one of the smaller cats to cradle in his arms.

“All of you are too attached.” he murmured, stroking their fur. “Just because I play with you all the time doesn’t mean you can follow me around 24/7.”

The mail room was a simple wooden building near the edges of the knight’s quarters, where messengers would come bearing letters to the occupants of the monastery. Students of the Officers Academy were required to retrieve their own letters and packages themselves, in order to instill a sense of responsibility. Claude thought it was all bullshit, seeing how many of the noble kids would have their own messengers after they graduated. He was no exception.

The lone worker inside greeted him with a lazy wave, staring at the cats that were following him. “Hey there! Brought your little gang with you, huh?” they called out, grinning at Claude.

“Unwillingly, but yes!” he answered, quickly heading to his allocated section. There was a flat box inside, tied together with ribbon. The stamp of the Alliance shone in gold in the corner. Claude set down the cat he was holding, allowing him to untie the ribbon and take a peek. Satisfied with the contents, he neatly tied it back and grabbed the present.

“Have a nice day!” He saluted to the worker, who mimicked his action.

“You too, boy! And happy birthday!”

Once he stepped outside, Claude quickened his pace to the dining hall. He was surely off schedule by now, and didn’t want to keep his friends waiting much longer.

Unsurprisingly, all of his house mates were waiting for him, grins on their faces and different presents in hand. Running towards him, Hilda whisked him to their group, beginning their final celebration for the day. A delightful meal of Daphnel stew, a dessert of peach sorbet, and a cake made by Raphael and Marianne.

With enough convincing from both himself and his classmates, the Blue Lions and Black Eagles joined their table, turning the little party into an interhouse event. Claude had to drag Dimitri to sit next to him, but it was worth it to see him laugh and smile with everyone.

When it came time for presents, Claude was pleasantly surprised to see that his earlier statement to Byleth was false. Leonie and Raphael put their funds together to buy a silver bow. Ignatz had painted Claude in a very heroic stance, making him laugh at how he looked so suave.

Lysithea had given him a bunch of notes, which were quite unorthodox at first glance. However, a closer inspection told Claude that these were her studies on Reason magic, such as the systematics of Warp and how the hell mages actually conjured fire from their hands. They would make for a perfect late night read.

Marianne’s gift was an adorable knitted deer, and Hilda had sewn clothes to make it look like Claude. There was also a stunning gold earring that they had bought as well. Claude made a mental note to place the deer on his desk as a good luck charm.

If he was being frank, he didn’t expect Lorenz to get him much of a gift, considering their odd rivalry. His expectations were blown out of the park with a beautiful new quiver, made of engraved cherry wood and detailed with orichalcum. Oh, and some boxes of Almyran pine needle tea as an added bonus.

“Holy shit Lorenz.” he blurted out, cradling the quiver in his fingers. “What the fuck.”

“I take it that you’re pleased with it?” the noble asked, a smug look on his face.

“Y-Yeah. My Goddess, it’s gorgeous. I almost don’t want to use it so that I don’t ruin it.” he stuttered. “Damn, now I have to get something to top this when your birthday rolls around.” Claude grumbled, making everyone chuckle.

After a bit more chatter and final celebrations, they retired for the night. Claude thanked everyone for their presents and well wishes, the grin on his face the most genuine he had since the start of the whole ordeal. He gently placed all the gifts on his chair, taking the time to clean up the table as neatly as he could to ease the work on the chefs.

Dimitri helped to the best of his ability, gauntlets clinking against the dinnerware. Claude had insisted that he retire with the others, but the prince argued, saying something about how the birthday boy shouldn’t be doing chores.

“Thanks for all your help, Dimitri.” Claude grinned. They were walking down the hallway of the dormitories to their rooms. Dimitri smiled back at Claude, glancing at the gifts in his arms.

“Think nothing of it, Claude.” They reached Claude’s room, pausing outside for a few final words.

“I’m sorry that we never had time to discuss our plans for the Rite.” Claude apologized, “I had completely forgotten about my birthday.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Claude. You’re 18 now! You deserve to celebrate such a splendid occasion. We can always do it tomorrow.” Dimitri smiled, making Claude’s heart flutter.

He lightly nudged Dimitri. “The day before the Rite? Never knew you would be so spontaneous. But I jest, that’s perfect. Is after breakfast okay? We’ll round up both houses in one of the classrooms.” he suggested.

“That sounds great.” Dimitri stopped, realizing something. “Oh, would you wait out here for a few moments?” the prince suddenly asked, darting in his room for a few seconds. He emerged with a bundle in his hands, and Claude recognized the shape of a dagger.

“Happy birthday. I know this isn’t much, but I hope this will suffice. The blade is made of high carbon steel, so it’ll keep its shape and won’t break easily.” he explained.

Claude shifted the boxes in his arm, freeing up a hand to take the dagger. “Thank you.” he murmured.

For a fleeting moment, Dimitri’s hands completely enveloped Claude’s as he passed the dagger to him, making a shiver run up his spine. It was gone as quick as it came.

“Sleep well.” Dimitri whispered, turning away to retreat to his room. Claude stood in silence, his brain buffering through what had just happened. He rushed in his room, set the gifts on his bed, and leafed through all of the books on his floor.

_ ‘Customs and Traditions in Faerghus’ _

In his haste, Claude flipped through to the page he had dog eared.

_ ‘In Faerghus, the gifting of weapons is used for many attributes.’ _

He skipped down a few paragraphs.

_ ‘Daggers are gifted as a sign of admiration and love.’ _

Well, that scotch was looking mighty fine now.

* * *

Byleth watched the kids laugh and talk from the doorway, observing Claude from a distance. He seemed like a normal student, a smile on his face and carefree body language. And yet, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Letting out a sigh, Byleth left the scene to return to his room, his mind thinking back to the tea party.

Despite Claude's statement about sufficient sleep, it was easy to tell that it wasn’t the case. There were dark circles under his eyes, hastily hidden through what seemed to be lightening balm. His sudden irritation wasn’t normal either. He’d seen it before, when Jeralt had taken a nasty wound and was looked over by Darien almost 24/7. Barely any sleep for days on end made the man lash out unintentionally until he was fully rested.

As he began settling in for the night, Byleth thought back to something his father had told him. Back when they had first taken their new positions in the monastery, he had asked Jeralt about his opinion on the house leaders if he became a professor.

_ “All of them have potential.” he said, filling out paperwork while his son sat on the ground next to him, head in his lap. “They’re like flowers, By. You need to nourish and care for them, but once they grow, they’ll be able to live by themselves. They might need a bit of maintenance, but nothing too difficult.” _

_ “That doesn’t tell me what your opinions are, Pa.” Byleth muttered. “Blue Lions.” he fired at him. _

_ Jeralt answered immediately. “The prince is strong. A flower that has already bloomed, but is still fragile and will easily lose its petals. I’m not sure if you can handle such a delicate balance. He needs more time, and then he’ll be resilient. If you choose to lead them, then be prepared to put in some work. It’ll be worth it in the end, however. And no, I am not biased because I was once a Kingdom soldier.” _

_ Byleth snorted. “Black Eagles.” _

_ “The princess has only just begun blooming, but she’s already grown to be independent. She’s a pretty good candidate. To be honest, she’s your best bet if you want successful students. All of them will be willing to take your advice head on. If you want immediate results, then lead them.” _

_ “And the Golden Deer?” _

_ Jeralt fell silent, his hand slowing to halt. “Pa?” Byleth lifted his head, gently tugging at his sleeve. _

_ The man swallowed. “That boy… he’s dying, By.” _

_ Confusion flickered on Byleth’s face. “Dying? What do you mean? Do you mean the way he fights?” _

_ Jeralt’s lips tightened in a grim line, setting down his quill to rest his hand atop his son’s hair. “You’ve noticed, haven’t you? Tell me how he fights.” _

_ Byleth thought back to their first meeting. “Like he’s done it before,” he answered. _

_ “And the other two?” _

_ “Like they’re scared of killing.” _

_ The former mercenary captain sighed, slouching in his chair. “Exactly. That boy acts like he’s been in war, and yet he’s so young. You’d think that his lifestyle would have prevented it, being the heir to Duke. There’s a trauma deep within him, I don’t know if anything will be able to heal it. He doesn’t flinch at blood, nor does he let his morals restrict his actions. He’s just like us. Toughened mercenaries that kill to live. He may not look like it at first, but it’s already begun to show through his actions and his eyes. That boy is scarred to the point of no return.” _

_ Byleth’s gaze wandered to the surface of his father’s desk, soaking in all the words that Jeralt was saying. “...Dying.” was all he whispered. Jeralt nodded. _

_ “You remember the story I told you long ago, don’t you? About that little girl?” he murmured, and Byleth nodded. _

_ “The girl who poured her heart into everything she did. Poured and poured and poured, but no one realized that she was hollow until after she died. Had been hollow ever since she was just a kid, and no one knew until she killed herself as an adult.” he recited. _

_ Jeralt let out a heavy sigh. “He’s like that. The Riegan. Just like that little girl.” _

_ “If the others are healthy, blooming flowers, then he’s a flower that’s about to lose his last petal. The others might be fine, but they’ll spiral downwards if something happens to him. If you’re going to teach them By, then you need to be careful. One wrong move, and he’ll be gone.” _

_ He ran a hand over his face, fatigue sinking in as Jeralt grumbled to himself. _

_ “No. He’s already past the point of saving.” _

_ “Then what do we do, Pa?” _

_ Jeralt forced himself to pick up his quill, to distract his mind from the kid whose eyes were filled with agony and dull pain. _

_ “We do nothing.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite it being spring break and with the suspension of in-class instruction for my school, I somehow still didn't get this chapter done in a month lol
> 
> in all seriousness though, please keep yourself safe from COVID-19!! practice social distancing, wash your hands, don't touch your face, etc. if you work at a business that is deemed essential (like I do) make sure that you minimize contact and keep a safe distance from customers if you can! sanitize surfaces and frequently touched items if possible.
> 
> stay safe!!! and thank you for the support on this fic!!
> 
> (the "story" that jeralt told byleth is basically a big ass reference to the fic [Stumble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397653/chapters/12468740) by writer168, I fell in love with it when it first started and finding it years later made my heart stupidly happy. it's a Naruto fic but holy shit it's so well written BUT IT DOES HAVE MANY SENSITIVE TOPICS such as suicide and non-con. the latter isn't explicit but can be uncomfortable, so lots of blaring alarms if you decide to read it.)
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	11. conceal yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goddess' Rite of Rebirth dawns upon them. Claude begins his hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow?? for once I don't take whole month to post?? it's a miracle
> 
> in all seriousness this chapter was such blast to write that I sped through most of it in less than a week! and then promptly didn't write anything for the next few days!

_ Despite being on the battlefield for so long, Claude never got used to the smell of death. Burnt flesh and blood had an atrocious scent, and he’d wrinkle his nose whenever he neared an influx of dead bodies. _

_ Today was no exception. He was fighting the Imperial army right in the capital, Deidriu. Hilda to his left, Lysithea to his right. The three of them against Ferdinand, Petra, Caspar, and a vastly larger army than theirs. At least half of the Alliance troops were dead, and the Empire had only suffered a mere third to theirs. _

_ They were losing. They never won battles against the Empire, especially now with more than half of their main commanders dead and a dwindling troop. Yet, they continued to do so. Whether it was by a fragile string of hope or through desperation, he didn’t know. _

_ Claude’s body moved on its own, his eyes focused on the mage that stood in front of him. A clean hit to their stomach, before plunging his sword into their heart. He cut through so many soldiers that day, blade drenched in blood and his clothes beyond recognition other than crimson. There was nasty burn on his bicep, hastily healed by a vulnerary and a deep cut along his thigh. Even if he lived through this war, he wasn’t coming out of it unscathed. _

_ His body turned towards Lysithea, spotting the mage with the bird mask long before she did. _

_ “LYSITHEA!” he roared, pushing his legs into a sprint and nocking an arrow into Failnaught. She looked towards him, before whipping her head to the mage. The young gremory attempted to cast Miasma just as Claude let the arrow go, but it was too late. A huge ball of dark magic flew right into her, making the girl let out a piercing scream. _

_ It grew and grew, manifesting into a black hole. _

_ She continued to scream, letting out her agonizing cries as her body was ripped apart atom by atom. Claude tried to reach her, to grasp onto the hand that she had flung out in desperation, but the Empire troops kept him back. All he could do was watch. _

_ “CLAUDE! HELP ME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-!” _

_ And then she was gone. _

* * *

Claude woke up, his head thrumming with a dull pain and a cold sweat down his back. An odd wet feeling was on his cheeks, and he touched his face. He was crying.

The events of the memory caught up to him, flashing through his mind yet again. With each second that passed, the more he began to remember, recalling how he let Lysithea die. How he let everyone die. His chest and throat tightened, and Claude broke down in sobs. He could still hear her screaming, he could still see the pain that contorted on her face and the last remnants of her body before disappearing into thin air. The tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sor- _ fuck! _ -I should have saved you, I’m sorry!-”

Claude gasped for air, his breathing sporadic and his lungs greedily trying to take in oxygen, feeling like he was barely getting any. His hands were fisted in his hair, sweat dripping from his brow as he trembled. It felt like the world was collapsing all around him. Fuck, this was a first.

He tried to calm down, telling himself that this was all in the past and that nothing would happen.

_ It’s okay. _

** _She died._ **

_ She isn’t dead now. _

** _Didn’t you hear her screams? She begged for you to save her._ **

_ I couldn’t do anything. _

** _Lies_ ** _ . _

_ Lysithea is alive. _

** _She won’t be if you’re careless._ **

Gritting his teeth, Claude forced himself to take deeper breaths. He inhaled through his nose, counted to five, and exhaled through his mouth. It took him a few moments to gather himself, but once he did, he pushed himself off his bed and to the door. He needed fresh air.

The light from the windows were dim, but Claude could tell that the sun was just beginning to rise. It was still early in the morning, so if he was lucky, he’d be able to head to the pond and be alone to gather his thoughts.

But when was the Goddess ever kind to him?

“Claude? You’re up early!...”

He turned to look at the voice, blanching when he was greeted with Dimitri’s piercing blue eyes. The prince’s smile faltered when he saw the ragged appearance of the Leicester heir and rushed over.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice soft to not spook the boy. Claude avoided eye contact, trying to discreetly wipe away the tears and sweat.

“Just a nightmare, nothing serious. I just need some air.” Claude answered, starting to walk down the hallway. Dimitri followed behind.

“Do you need any help?” He rested a hand on Claude’s shoulder, not noticing how he tensed up momentarily.

“...Some water would be nice.” he tentatively spoke.

Dimitri gave a soft smile. “I can grab you some from the dining hall.” Claude mirrored his expression, but it was overshadowed by his tired eyes.

“Thank you. I’ll be at the pond.”

The two house leaders padded down the stairs in silence, and Claude was acutely aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing any shoes once he stepped onto the cold stone. He made no move to run back and grab his boots, instead accepting the cool feeling under his feet. It helped to ground him, to remind him that he was alive and breathing.

They split ways once they were at the pond, Claude walking down the pier and Dimitri up the stairs.

Even though Claude stated that he was “fine,” Dimitri had his suspicions. He wished that the boy would at least go to Manuela to get a check up, but he refused to do that as well.

Dimitri sighed. It seemed like he’d have to take matters into his own hands, regardless if Claude liked it or not.

* * *

The joint-meeting of the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer was relatively simple.

Claude had rounded up the Deer by slipping them notes under their doors before they woke, while Dimitri had told them in advance the day before. After a hearty breakfast, the two houses found themselves in the Golden Deer classroom. They were all crowded around a map of the monastery, small stones used as markers.

“With the Black Eagles at the cathedral, we’re going to have to take the helm at protecting the monastery itself.” Claude started, quickly shifting into his tactician mode. “We’ll split ourselves up based on major locations. After some deduction, this would be the entrance hall, stables, dorms, reception hall, the second floor, the marketplace, and the bridge to the cathedral. Groups of two, with the exception of two groups of three.” he explained.

“Claude and I have decided that it would be best if we started working together. As such, partners will consist of at least one person from each house.” Dimitri added. “We’ve done our best to balance out skills and temperaments. Even if you do not think that the arrangements will work out, you’ll never know until you try.” he stated, voice stern like the prince he was.

Claude glanced over at him, internally grateful for his words. Even if he wasn’t as smooth as a talker as himself, the power and control within his voice was more than enough as a warning.

Clearing his throat, Claude began to list off locations and names.

“Entrance hall: Dedue, Leonie, and Marianne. This area has a high chance of being swarmed, so I’m putting two heavy hitters with a healer. Marianne, primarily focus on healing but don’t let your guard down.” The three of them nodded, Leonie slinging an arm around Marianne and giving a grin to Dedue.

“Dorms: Ingrid and Lysithea. Ingrid, I’ve been told that you’re currently being taught to become a pegasus knight. This’ll be a prime opportunity to bond with your steed as you keep an eye from the skies. Lysithea, your dark magic is deadly, but be cautious for any surprise attacks. Ingrid, please keep an eye on her. Keep watch near the pond and greenhouse as well.” Claude couldn’t help the bile that rose in his throat when he looked at Lysithea, and averted his eyes from the young mage.

“Reception hall: Lorenz and Ashe. If there is an attack, the hope is that the initial swarm will be focused on the entrance. You two will mainly be there to weed any stragglers out if that’s the case. Lorenz, keep to your lance, but have your Reason on hand. Ashe, back him up.” The two of them looked at each other and nodded.

“Stables: Hilda and Sylvain. Both of you are hard hitters, so I’m also going to have you two keep an eye on the knight’s hall. If you need back up, call on either the entrance hall or the reception. And please, don’t spend all your time flirting. You two might die if you’re distracted. Sylvain, keep off your mount for this fight. The area is too small to traverse with a horse.”

He simply continued, ignoring their pointed looks. “Second floor: Ignatz and Mercedes. The knights are defending the stairs, but there may be the chance of those looking for the Archbishop's room or even the audience chamber. Keep your eyes sharp, and use long distance attacks to take them out before they step a single foot into any of the rooms. Ignatz, bring a sword. This’ll be good training for your assassin certifications.”

“Marketplace: Raphael, Dimitri, and Annette. Similar to the entrance hall, I want all of you on guard for any suspicious people entering the monastery. The three of you can freely call for backup from the entrance hall group, and vice versa.”

He grabbed the last two stones and placed them down. “Bridge: Me and Felix. We’ll be located at the classrooms and graveyard to keep an eye on it from a distance.” Claude stared right into Felix’s eyes, daring him to talk back. “As long as you don’t go and die, we’ll be fine. I’ll take to the skies, you’ll stay on the ground. Got it?” he murmured.

Felix grunted, averting his gaze. Claude took that as a yes.

“Anyone who knows faith, keep note of where you’re located compared to the other groups, and feel free to heal those without faith knowledge. That would be the stables, reception, and the bridge. All long range fighters, whether it be mages or archers, bring a dagger with you.” They nodded.

“I know this is probably your first time fighting together with the people assigned to you, but do your best to have each other’s backs. You will be the weight that decides if you die or not based on your actions. Aim well, don’t hesitate, and never feel bad if you need to retreat. Save your lives first if you can.”

Everyone stared at Claude, soaking in his words. They hadn’t seen him this serious before, nor had they ever seen such fire in his eyes. It was the burning passion of a tactician, of a man who knew what he was doing and had faith in his actions.

“You got it, leader!” Raphael exclaimed, the first to break the silence. The others followed suit, smiles on their faces as they cheered each other on. Claude could finally lean back and observe them, watching how a few groups began to familiarize themselves with each other and make a strategy of their own.

Dimitri couldn’t help but stare at Claude, brow furrowed with thought. For a brief moment, he could have thought that he was back in his childhood; sitting on his father’s knee as Lambert dispersed troops to take care of a bandit situation. It was a familiar feeling, watching Claude lead the two houses with practiced words. His stomach twisted with unease.

This wasn’t the first time Claude had done this, and it wasn’t going to be the last.

* * *

The day of the Rite was upon them, tension high in the air between all Academy students. Today was the day if their precious archbishop would fall to the hands of a ruffian, or live to see another day.

When Claude got out of bed, he completely disregarded his academy uniform and instead went to the box that laid on his desk. Leicester gold shone brightly in the corner as he pulled the lid off, taking the fabric inside and pulling it on.

Two letters sat on his desk, unsealed and read from top to bottom.

_ ‘To my grandson, _

_ I hope you are well. I pray that the Academy is treating you nicely and that you’re taking your studies seriously. My birthday gift to you is with your mother’s. _

_ Happy 18th birthday, my boy. _

_ \- Duke Riegan’ _

_ ‘Khalid, _

_ My baby boy! Happy birthday! Believe me, your father and I were quite surprised to receive a letter from you. I’m not sure how you managed to smuggle it past the Throat, but that’s a thumbs up from me. _

_ Everything that you’ve requested for is inside the box. Your birthday gift, seeing how much work was put into it. _

_ Don’t do anything that your father wouldn’t do. Keep your eyes sharp, my boy. _

_ -Tiana von Riegan’ _

His grandfather’s gift was a pendant previously owned by his uncle. The same as before. This time though, he wouldn’t carelessly lose it in the monastery like an idiot. As for his parents, their gift was nothing short of useless.

The black clothing was light on his skin, made of the finest and sturdiest cloth in Almyra. It was a simple tunic and pants, with wraps around his forearms and shins and a sash around his waist. It screamed Almyran, which made Claude wince. He was glad that he asked for a cloak. It would cover up most of his body and cover his head as well.

For now though, he folded the cloak neatly, placing it into a satchel with gloves and a pitch black mask on top.

He was aware of what he was doing when he asked his parents to obtain said mask. By all means, Claude would rather have it than be potentially outed. However, seeing it in his possession caused the image of those blasted mages to flash in his mind, Lysithea screaming like her life depended on it and-

“Stop.” Claude hissed to himself. “This is what you chose to do, so stick to it.”

He hadn’t intended to act like the Flame Emperor, to cover his face and obscure everything about his features. It made his chest tight just thinking that he was becoming a person he didn’t want to be.

But Claude was greedy for information. So he would get it.

In an attempt to hide parts of his outfit, Claude slung on his academy blazer. The puffy sleeves and long coat helped to conceal most of his clothes, and when he slipped on his boots it was as if nothing changed.

Grabbing the letters, Claude exited the dorms, headed to the pond first. With everyone at the dining hall for breakfast, there were no prying eyes to spy on him. Letters in hand, he summoned a flame to his fingertip, watching the ashes flutter into the water.

Breakfast was tense. Everyone muttered to each other as they ate, clarifying plans and praying for a safe ceremony. Claude tried his best to ease up the tension, giving his usual smiles and cracking jokes, eliciting a few small smiles here and there. There was no laughter.

As soon as they finished eating, everyone made their final preparations. Weapons were retrieved, steeds prepared and mounted, strategies recited one more time. Claude went back to his room to grab his satchel, bow, and quiver. After some second thought, he also strapped the gifted dagger from Dimitri to his thigh.

This wasn’t war, not by a long shot, but Claude’s body naturally began to tense up. His eyes flitted around, trying to judge any suspicious individuals and watch for assailants. The monastery was already beginning to fill up with followers from around Fodlan, eagerly making their way to the cathedral. Claude weaved his way through them, heading to the stables.

Noctis had already been taken out of his stall and tethered to a post, Aslen giving the wyvern a simple check up. At the sight of Claude, the beast snorted and shook his head.

“Hey there boy.” Claude muttered, gently patting Noctis’ snout. “Nervous are you? Don’t worry.” He whispered a few more calming words, before walking to the saddle already prepared on his back.

“Good luck kid.” Aslen spoke, giving the buckles one last tug. He gave a single nod, before walking off to suit up. Satchel in hand, Claude secured it onto the saddle straps, making sure that everything he needed was inside and secure.

Hoisting himself atop Noctis’ back, Claude spurred the wyvern into flight, carefully flying him over to the bridge to hover along the eastern side. He spotted Felix standing in the graveyard, waiting for everyone to be gone. He guided himself close by, giving a shrill whistle to get the swordman’s attention.

“What do you want?” Felix grumbled, a rapier by his side.

“Just making sure you remember the plan. You have vulneraries?” Claude asked, and the Fraldarius nodded. 

“Enough to last.”

“Good. You’re east, I’m west. Keep the bridge in sight, if anything happens book it to me.”

Fleix snorted, waving his hand. “Yeah yeah, I got it. Get to your post.”

With a mock salute, he rose up into the sky, taking his place near the training grounds. Not a few moments later, the bridge cleared up, signalling that all followers were now inside the cathedral, and that the Rite was about to begin.

Claude took a deep breath, easing the lump in his throat. Contrary to what everyone else thought, the monastery wasn’t getting attacked. He might’ve been a little overkill with the strategy, but Claude wanted to instill the need to protect. He didn’t want a half assed job on guarding, even if there was no battle to be fought today. The only fight would be inside the Holy Mausoleum.

The ringing of church bells broke Claude out of his thoughts.

In a blink of an eye, Noctis had begun diving down, hiding him and Claude next to the bridge as they made their way to the side of the cathedral. With any luck, Felix wouldn’t have noticed their absence.

Claude guided Noctis to the Goddess Tower, making him land on the small path. He dismounted the wyvern, feet landing on the cobblestone harshly. There was no time to waste. He unstrapped his bow and quiver from his back, carefully sliding them into his satchel. It was all for show, bringing it with him would cause too much suspicion and be dead weight for him to carry.

He threw off his academy blazer, folding it haphazardly and stuffing it inside as well. In its place went his cloak, pulling the hood over his head to conceal his hair. Then the gloves.

Claude took out the mask last, holding it in his hands. The pitch black material stared at him, dark holes where his eyes would be seeming to warp. It laughed at him, sneering and taunting. He could hear a voice calling to him.

** _You’re no better than the Flame Emperor!_ **

He trembled, shutting his eyes firmly. 

_ You have to do this. _

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes and turning to Noctis.

“Go. You know where to hide. I’ll call for you after.” he murmured, and the wyvern let out a faint cry, lifting off the ground and soaring away.

Turning back to the cathedral, he slipped the mask onto his face. Claude stalked over to the side doors, carefully pulling them open to slip in. Instantly, the faint sounds of Rhea’s voice filled his ears. The ceremony had already begun.

He kept to the shadows, easily making it to the entrance of the Holy Mausoleum. Just as he predicted, the doors were wide open and no guards were present, more focused on their task of protecting Rhea.

Tugging his hood lower, Claude let himself in, descending down the steps. As he began to near the opening, he could hear the clanging of steel and roars of battle cries. He swore under his breath, quickening his pace. His head began to throb. Were the stairs supposed to be this long?

In his haste, Claude had nearly run into the mages waiting at the end of the stairs, eager to ambush their enemies. With practiced ease, he unsheathed his dagger, taking them down. A blade to the head for the first, before throwing a punch at the next and stabbing them in the heart. The last began to summon dark magic in their hands, prompting Claude to rush at them. The bold approach made the mage falter, allowing him to tackle them down, dagger dangerously near their throat.

“Why are you here?” he growled, making his voice lower to mask his youth.

“Who the hell are you?” the mage hissed, and Claude plunged his dagger into their shoulder.

“Tell me! Or I’ll cut you to pieces and feed you to my wyvern. That’ll be nice, won’t it?” Claude sneered.

At the threat, the mage began blubbering all the information they knew. It was a ploy by the Western Church. The assassination plot had been a ruse, to distract the Central Church and allow them to take the Sword of the Creator.

Everything Claude already knew.

Before the mage could finish his sentence, Claude had slit his throat, pushing himself off the body before blood could spray all over him. He had expected them to resist a little more, but an emotionless black mask boring into their eyes seemed to scare them witless. Claude ran towards a pillar, pressing himself against it as he craned his head to watch the fight.

The Black Eagles were faring fine, Byleth at the helm as he instructed the students on where to go. Oddly enough, they were avoiding the figure in the center, and Claude strained his eyes through his mask to see who it was.

“Death Knight?” he muttered, not expecting Jeritza’s presence with the Western Church. If that was the case, then it was safe for him to assume that this ploy was made by the Empire, and in short, the Flame Emperor.

Claude grit his teeth. All of this ran deeper than he thought.

His eyes trailed to where the Princess was, axe in hand as she parried attacks from the enemies around her. On her side of the Mausoleum was Hubert, Caspar, and Dorothea. On the other side was Petra, Linhardt, Ferdinand, and Bernadetta. Byleth stood between the two groups, offering his support whenever they needed it. They were nearing the mage that stood at the coffin, still struggling to unseal the lid.

Claude decided to move closer, keeping to the walls and hiding behind the next pillar. He was about to continue forward when a piercing scream resounded through the air. He whipped his head to see Bernadetta attacked by a thief, their dagger plunging into her stomach.

He could feel her blood on his hands, even though he had been wearing gloves during that time. The light fading from her eyes and the faintest whisper of her last words before she fell to the ground. Claude gasped, forcing down the vomit that rose in his throat.

The world began to spin. Claude stumbled on his feet, a wave of vertigo hitting him harshly. His head throbbed, and the feeling of time slipped away from his grasp. The world came to a halt.

And suddenly, Claude found himself a few paces back. Back still pressed against the wall, eyes still affixed on Bernadetta as the thief that was supposed to kill her is taken down with a blow of Fire. Byleth rushed over, hands still glowing with Reason as he made sure that the archer was okay.

Claude’s head was still spinning, but he knew what had just happened. A Divine Pulse. Bernadetta was supposed to die, and Byleth had prevented it.

Unlike the first time, he could feel himself recovering from the nausea quicker. The pain in his head turned into dull throbs and his vision cleared. Claude continued to move closer, getting a good view of the coffin.

He watched an axe rip right through Ferdinand’s chest, and Claude could see his ribs. Another Divine Pulse followed, intensifying the pain in his head and reactivating the vertigo. This time, the assailant had been taken down before they could even take one step towards the orange haired noble.

Instead of edging closer, Claude kept his position. He didn’t want to risk getting too close and being spotted. Plus, he wanted to hightail it out of there as soon as he’d seen Byleth take the Sword of the Creator with his hands. The closer to the exit he was during that time, the better.

Lips pressed in a grim line, Claude continued to watch. He observed how the Eagles fought, how Byleth commanded them with experience. How each time a deadly attack hit one of the students, Byleth would pull at the Divine Pulse and save them. How each time the nausea attacked him in waves and only made the pain worse.

By the time the Eagles were mere steps away from the coffin, Claude was leaning heavily against the wall he was against, sweat dripping down his chin as he struggled to breathe through his mask. His head pulsed with pain, barely able to think or hear and his vision littered with black spots.

At this point, Claude didn’t want to stick around to see Byleth get the Sword of the Creator. All he wanted to go was get the hell out of the Mausoleum so that he could empty out the contents of his stomach.

Pushing himself off the wall, Claude tottered towards the exit, ignoring the three dead mages and the horrible stench of their corpses. He failed to notice the gaze of the Death Knight, having spotted him briefly as he escaped the shadows and rushed up the stairs.

Only to run right into another body.

“Huh, who-”

Reflexes kicked in, and Claude didn’t even think as he took the dagger in his hand and plunged it right into the gap of armour where their neck was. It was only after the knight had collapsed on the ground, gurgling his last words that he realized what he had done. A hiss escaped his lips, and Claude sprinted up the stairs, sheathing his dagger.

When he reached the doors, there was no sign of Catherine or any more knights, but the commotion within the cathedral told him that they were about to arrive. Using the chaos to his advantage, Claude weaved through the panicked followers, sticking to the walls before splitting off and slipping out the side door.

He whistled, loud and shrill whilst running towards the Goddess Tower. The cry of a wyvern neared, and he could see the gleam of Noctis’ black scales approaching him. He started on the walkway, before suddenly taking a sharp left turn.

With striding steps, Claude launched himself off the edge.

For a few fleeting moments, he was sailing down towards the mountain side, and a small part of him panicked. However, he landed with a grunt onto Noctis’ saddle, wincing at the pain that flared up in his lower body. It wasn’t the first time he did such a feat, but it had been a long time since the last. How the hell he managed this back then was beyond him.

He took hold of the reins, guiding the wyvern to hover low beside the cathedral foundations. Claude took the time to quickly rip off his gloves and mask, shoving it into the satchel as best as he could before removing his cloak and putting it inside as well. He retrieved his bow and quiver, though that had taken a bit of time to wriggle out without making any of the other items fall into the abyss of the mountain side.

Once he was sure that he was back to how he looked in the morning, Claude made his way back to the monastery, making extra effort to fly in Felix’s line of sight. The bridge was filled with followers being corralled by the knights, trying to lead them to safety.

“Oi!” he heard someone bark, and looked back at the classrooms to see Felix glaring at him. Claude flew towards him.

“Where the fuck were you? I’m out here watching the bridge, and the next thing I know there’s a shit ton of people leaving! I run over here because that’s what you told me to do and you’re not even where you’re supposed to be!” he growled.

“I had suspicions. Ended up scouting out the cathedral.” Claude spoke.

_ Truth. _

“Does a fly around the cathedral really take you 20 minutes?”

“Saw a group with hoods and masks. I snuck in to keep an eye on them.”

_ Truth. _

“Where did your uniform go? And what’s with the get up?”

“It got hot. And I’m not wearing fluorescent yellow to battle. That’ll get me killed.”

_ Lie. _

Felix bared his teeth, but didn’t question anything else. He silently watched Claude land Noctis on the grass, dismounting and grabbing his uniform blazer from the satchel on its side. The wyvern flew off soon after that.

“Let’s head to the audience chamber and report to Rhea. The others should be smart enough to meet us there.” Claude muttered, pulling on the blazer loosely.

The two of them walked in silence, bumping into the marketplace, entrance and reception hall groups. As they walked up the stairs, they explained their situations; no fighting, but they had to help guide the followers out and make sure that no one was trampled.

When they entered the audience chamber, Ignatz and Mercedes were present, patiently waiting. Rhea was there as well with Seteth by her side, looking disheveled but otherwise unharmed. A tense silence filled the room, and Claude’s mind drifted. He’d have to retrieve Noctis and grab his things, hide them somewhere in his room. Wash the blood off of his dagger without anyone’s notice. Clean his gloves, too. 

At last, all the Blue Lions and Golden Deer were present.

“Are the Black Eagles not joining us?” Annette questioned, and Rhea shook her head.

“They went through a great ordeal, defending the Holy Mausoleum. I will be asking for their report at a later time.” she explained, before turning towards the two house leaders.

“All of us were stationed at different locations to protect the monastery to the best of our abilities. No harm was caused. All followers of Seiros were guided out to safety once we realized the cathedral was compromised.” Dimitri spoke, his voice loud and clear. Rhea nodded, before turning to Claude.

“Report. I saw suspicious figures enter the cathedral, and attempted to observe them briefly. However, I was unable to spot them in the crowd during the Rite. Otherwise, no harm done to the monastery or any of the people within. Excluding the Mausoleum, of course.” he recited. Rhea cocked her head at his words, seeming interested.

“Suspicious? Elaborate.”

“Hooded figures with masks. Bird-like masks.” he explained, sneaking a glance at Lysithea. She flinched, averting her eyes to the floor. “They entered the cathedral before the Rite started. I believe that they might have had some part in the attack, but have no substantial evidence to back my theory up.”

Rhea hummed. She was about to speak once more when the door burst open. A flurry of yelling filled the room, and everyone turned to see the Knights of Seiros, Catherine at the helm. Two bishops were in their custody, and Claude presumed that they were a part of the Western Church.

“You are dismissed.” she spoke to the students, and they all bowed. Claude lagged behind as much as he could, managing to catch a snippet of Catherine’s voice.

“Report. All students are alive and all immediate threats were eliminated. Byleth and the Eagles are currently being treated. We had one casualty. The scout that we sent ahead was found dead. Stab wound to the neck. Otherwise-”

The door closed before Claude could hear anything else, and a shiver went down his spine. If it weren’t for his trigger-happy reflexes, they would have had no casualties. There weren’t supposed to be any to begin with. That knight could have had a family. Maybe they were married and had kids, or maybe they were someone trying to make ends meet for their siblings, or-

“Claude, are you alright?”

He jolted out of his stupor to see Dimitri, an armoured hand on his shoulder. “You looked lost for a moment.” he murmured. Claude nodded, gently shrugging his hand off.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” he spoke, quick to walk away. His head still thrummed with a dull pain from the remnants of Byleth’s Divine Pulses, tired of having to see people he knew die in front of his eyes once more. Claude suddenly stopped, turning his head to Dimitri.

“Am I allowed to come over tonight?” he murmured, his eyes practically begging for him to say yes.

Dimitri let a small smile form on his face. “Of course.” he answered, and Claude returned the gesture.

“Thank you.”

Instead of following Claude down the stairs, Dimitri found himself walking towards the infirmary. He stepped out of the way to let Byleth walk by, having finished being patched up. When he entered the room, Manuela was sitting on a chair, looking drained.

“Oh, Dimitri.” she spoke, sitting up. “How may I help you? Are you injured?” she asked, and the prince shook his head.

“I am perfectly fine. I was hoping to ask a few questions, however.”

She waved her hand. “Go ahead.” Dimitri’s gaze averted to the floor, twisting his hands to ease his nerves.

“I was wondering… if someone suddenly has difficulty breathing, almost hyperventilating, and mutters about things such as “I’m sorry,” and “should have saved you,” what does that constitute to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of clarification on divine pulse and how it affects claude: the divine pulse is proximity based in this fic. as long as they are in the radius of byleth, then it'll work. the closer claude is to byleth, the harsher the side effects are. this is why when claude is heading down to the mausoleum, his head hurts. byleth had used a divine pulse, but the side effects weren't severe as he wasn't close to byleth. it's also the reason why the stairs are "so long" when in reality it's just claude being sent back in time a few seconds.
> 
> divine pulse being proximity based will become very important in a later chapter, hehe
> 
> also!! thank you so much for 200+ kudos!!!
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/teddygirl05)


	12. apathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of a sudden, it feels like time is going too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i'm not dead!
> 
> **IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE:**  
I mentioned back in ch 6 that I royally fucked up the crimson flower route that claude lived through and said it would be all better in a future chapter
> 
> however while i was replanning chapters i realized "god fuck this is gonna be way to repetitive" so in the end I've edited all chapters that reference crimson flower to actually fit the plot. a few things have stayed the same, such as marianne, raphael, and lorenz's whereabouts during the route, but otherwise they should be more along to canon.
> 
> chapters with changes are as follows (there are many, but are all quite small):  
ch 2 (beginning - ignatz's cause of death)  
ch 3 (end - claude's recollections of dimitri + deleted a paragraph about faerghus in the dream)  
ch 4 (end - claude's knowledge of dimitri's death + memory of alois)  
ch 5 (beginning - claude's knowledge of the kingdom + when he finds out about marihilda)  
and ch 11 (beginning - location of battle in dream)
> 
> please feel free to tell me about any errors about crimson flower that I missed in the previous chapters!

Three days after the Rite, the Golden Deer were thrown into their monthly mission.

There were remnants of a rebellion in a nearby town in the Adrestian region. Reports stated that they were supporters of the Western Church. It seemed like Rhea wanted them out of her sight, and who were they to deny?

However, Claude was still recovering from the repeated use of Byleth’s divine pulse, his body lethargic and his head always on the cusp on a headache. He’d found his hands trembling as he stood at the gates, waiting for everyone to arrive.

Claude merely grit his teeth, putting on an air of confidence as he guided his house to victory. The fight went smoothly with minimal injuries on their side. The rebellion force was miniscule, and weren’t expecting to be dealt with so quickly. Claude was glad for it, secretly happy that they could return to the monastery ahead of schedule.

There were only a few minutes left until they were back on monastery grounds, and Claude found himself in step with Lysithea as they neared the gates. He hadn’t been around her much the entire year thus far. The air around them was awkward and stiff.

“Did we really have to kill them?” she asked, just loud enough for him to hear.

Claude sighed. “If we didn’t, they’d end up causing more trouble.” he answered simply.

“Was there not another way?"

For a moment, he looked over at Lysithea and imagined her as a young 20 year old, head held high as they prepared their troops. Her hands callused and scarred from repeated spells, a poor girl who had seen far too much death for her own good.

And then, she morphed back into the girl from reality.

“Resist the church, and we end up dead ourselves.” Claude murmured, keeping his eyes set in front of him. “Not acting on orders could have us charged for treason. While we’re in this academy, we’re considered wards of the church.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder. “The most we can do is obey.”

He gave her a small smile, before going ahead at a brisk pace. Lysithea furrowed her brow, hands curling into fists. She wasn’t blind to how different Claude suddenly seemed. It was like a switch had been flipped; He was more serious at times, his tactics unnervingly detailed, and he never hesitated. Even at their maiden battle, he tore through their enemies like nothing. Needless to say, it was disturbing.

As the Golden Deer made their way into the monastery and to the second floor, Claude spotted Sylvain in the corner of his eye. Unlike the usual flirty smile he had, there was a serious look on his face as he made his way to the knights hall. It was unusual, and Claude was sure that it had something to do with the Black Eagles’ monthly mission.

They entered the audience chamber, and both Manuela and Claude gave brief reports about their mission before they were dismissed. While the rest of the Deer went off to do their own thing, Manuela silently gestured for the boy to follow her to the infirmary. 

He had expected some sort of Faith lesson, or maybe a quick check up. Instead, she sat him down at the table, grabbed a clipboard from one of her cabinets, and sat down across from him.

“My apologies for dragging you in here.” she started, “We have scheduled a mental health examination with all the students, Archbishop's orders. With all the events that have been going on, she wanted to make sure that you students were doing okay.” Manuela explained.

At the words, “mental health,” Claude froze up. This was new. There hadn’t been a health examination before, so why now?

“Has… anyone else done this yet?” he carefully asked, and she nodded.

“I’ve already done Edelgard and Dimitri, as well as a few other students from their houses. We’re rotating through four students of a house each day. The hope is that we’ll get through everyone in a week.” she answered. “All I’ll be doing is asking a few questions. Please answer them as honestly as you can.”

Manuela flipped through her papers, grabbing a fountain pen before beginning the examination. The first few questions were quite standard, asking about his health such as how much fluids he’d intake in a day, or the amount of food he ate. There was also the topic of sleep, and even things such as current relationships between family and students.

“So, how is your relationship with your parents at the moment? I heard the news from Seteth, I do hope your father is doing well.”

“My father has recovered fully, thank you. As for my relationship, it’s… fine. They’re not the type of people to send letters often. Our family is independent, needless to say.”

Manuela nodded, jotting down his words. “And what of your relationships here in the Academy? Any students that you normally hang out with?”

“I try to socialize with the Golden Deer as often as I can. I mainly talk to Hilda, and Dimitri as well. Occasionally I’ll speak with Mercedes, Dorothea, and Ashe. The others, not so much. Just simple greetings.”

Claude fidgeted in his seat, fumbling with the hem of his uniform. Manuela hummed. “I see. It’s nice to know that you’re making an effort to interact with the other houses.” she smiled.

He returned the gesture. “Thank you.”

She cleared her throat. “How would you describe yourself?”

Claude furrowed his brow. “Hardworking. Someone who’s trying to do their best. I’d say optimistic, but that’s a stretch. A little tired.” His professor raised her eyes, curious about his answer.

“Anything that you pride in? Achievements?”

He took in a steady breath. “Archery, I guess. Maybe apothecary stuff too.” he mumbled, averting his eyes to the window. “There isn’t really much else to say.”

Manuela silently wrote down his answers, before turning to the next page. She had a feeling that there was something that Claude was hiding, but she wasn’t going to pry. All of his answers weren’t exactly what she had expected, especially considering how happy-go-lucky the boy usually was. Right now, it was like Claude was a five year old sitting in front of a stranger. Timid, quiet, everything that he wasn’t.

She let out a quiet sigh. “Alright. Let’s move onto the next set of questions.”

* * *

The week after his examination, Claude found himself with Aslen at the knights’ hall, deep in conversation. They hadn’t had much time to sit and chat, so they unanimously decided that today was their “catch up” day. With a pot of Almyran pine needle tea between them, it was more than perfect.

“Kid.” Aslen called out, making Claude flinch and look at him. “You’ve been drifting off an awful lot. What’s with you?” he asked, and Claude sheepishly smiled.

“Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

“Whatcha thinking ‘bout?” He shifted his gaze back to the person he was looking at, gesturing for Aslen to do the same.

“He seems stressed lately. Sylvain.” he commented, watching the red haired man pace near the fireplace. “I know for a fact it wasn’t our monthly mission, and it sure as hell isn’t the Blue Lions’ either. You think you can spare some details?”

Aslen sighed. “All Byleth told me was that we’re going to Faerghus. Taking care of bandits.” he said succinctly. Claude bit his lip, brow furrowing when he noticed Byleth entering the hall. As soon as he saw him, Sylvain jogged over.

"Professor. I'd like to accompany the Black Eagles on their mission this month." he stated, lips taut in a grim line.

"May I ask for your reasoning?" Byleth asked smoothly, turning his full attention to the Gautier.

"While Miklan may be my brother… he is nothing more than a thief now. I will remove him with my own hands and retrieve the Lance of Ruin."

Claude winced at his words. He didn't remember Sylvain being this grim about the situation.

"Ah, so that's what's goin' on. Guess we're killing a Gautier this week." Aslen casually commented.

"Dunno if you can call him a Gautier anymore." Claude interjected. "Got disinherited around three years ago, he's basically just Miklan Anschutz now."

Aslen looked at him with curiosity and scrutiny. "Since when did you know his middle name?" he questioned. Ah, shoot.

"Since when have nobles not had fancy middle names or "von" in their names? Look at me! Claude von Riegan. A shame I didn't get something cool like, I dunno, Mikael."

A bark of laughter escaped Aslen's mouth, and he couldn't help but start shaking in his chair. "I'm sorry brat, it's just-  _ HA! _ \- of all names, you choose one that's Church-affiliated!" he wheezed. Claude could feel his ears burning up, and he banged his head against the table.

"Shut up Aslen. I didn't know that. Shut up." he muttered bitterly. A few heads turned at the sound of Aslen's rambunctious laughter, but paid no heed to them. Claude slowly raised his head, blankly staring at Byleth's retreating figure and the tight crease in between Sylvain's eyebrows.

He wondered, if Sylvain ever became Margrave, would he still have that crease in his brow, looking over plans with Sreng? What did he do in the war? How would he fight, with the Lance of Ruin in hand to tear through Imperial forces? 

A flick on the forehead knocked him out of his thoughts. "Claude." Aslen murmured, his demeanour a complete 180 to how he was just a few seconds ago. "You look tired."

He bit on his bottom lip, eyes flickering back to the man in front of him. "You've told me that for weeks now." Claude smiled. Aslen didn't smile back.

"Do you want to talk about it, kiddo?"

He let his smile fall, staring into his lukewarm cup of tea. "...Not really."

Aslen let out a faint sigh. "Alright. You can't keep it bottled up forever though." he warned. Claude scoffed, sipping at his tea. That was a challenge he'd take to his death.

"Yes, dad."

He received a slap on the head.

* * *

If he had to be frank, it wasn't surprising to Claude when the Black Eagles and Sylvain returned from their mission at the end of that month looking absolutely tormented. He had heard rumors about this mission the last time it came around, about how Miklan had been taken over by the Lance of Ruin and turned into a horrible monster.

Claude wished that he could be more sympathetic over the news. Seeing a man turn into a monster was traumatic, especially for students who were barely adults. He tried to look terrified by the news when it finally reached his ears, but his gaze quickly glazed over. Claude had seen them all too often during the war. Imperial forces would sneak through their property, only to transform with a crest stone and terrorize as much as they could before being killed.

He was lucky that his apathy was hidden by a frantic Seteth, claiming that Flayn had gone missing.

Monthly missions were cancelled, all efforts now into finding the young girl. Claude knew where she was, probably scared witless as she waited deep underground for help. All he had to do was guide Byleth to Jeritza's room and have him discover a wounded Manuela and a hidden passage.

Instead, he sat and waited.

Claude wasn't sure what caused this sudden apathy of his. Perhaps it was his faith in Byleth and Black Eagles to find the girl. Maybe it was because he didn't care enough. Nonetheless, he pretended to help out with the search, only hinting through small meaningless quips and comments that would hopefully sow some seeds.

"Has anyone gone to check the staff's barracks?"

"Expand a little. It could be anyone, including one of our own."

"I haven't seen Professor Manuela today. Do you know where she went, Teach?" he had asked two weeks into the month when seeing Byleth pass by. Claude waved him over to see if he had made any substantial progress.

At that question, Byleth shook his head. "I do not. Do you suspect her, Claude?"

"Not really, she is my professor after all and I doubt she'd do such a thing." Claude stretched his arms, wincing at the pop in his shoulder. "She seemed to have a lead, though." he mentioned.

"I'll see if I can ask her a few questions, then." Byleth stated. With a nod, the professor left Claude to his own vices, and a small smile curled on his lips.

That day, Byleth finally ventured into Jeritza's room, raising the red alert of a traitor and a note of Flayn's whereabouts. Claude didn't do anything the last time around, but this time he took Marianne with him to the infirmary to help heal Manuela.

The two of them worked in tandem, quickly identifying the causations of her wound and unconsciousness. As Claude peered a little closer at the deep cut while Marianne staunched the bleeding, he spotted a familiar sheen of dark black.

"There's poison." he murmured lightly, making the light magic from Marianne's hands flicker as she yelped.

"O-Oh? What should- should we do then?" she asked, doing her best to focus. Her determination made Claude remember the old Marianne, the one who resisted blows in order to heal the wounded and barked orders in the medical tent. The Marianne in front of him wasn't her, but she sure as hell was becoming like it.

"Let me run to my room and grab a few things. I'm sure I can figure out what to do." he explained, and she nodded. "Continue to ease the bleeding, but don't close the wound just yet." Claude ordered, before running off.

As soon as he had exited the infirmary, a scowl crossed his lips. He'd seen that poison before, a similar injury that Raphael had gotten in their second year of the war. It was a slow acting poison, but the longer it stayed in the bloodstream meant eating away at muscle and tissue.

Claude reached his room in record time, immediately diving towards his chest of concoctions and items. He didn't have time to search for what he needed, so he chose to take the entire box with him back to the infirmary.

When he returned, he was pleased to see that Marianne had indeed stopped the bleeding and was currently trying to identify the poison herself. "It's so… dark." she whispered, almost afraid it would jump at her.

"Judging by the location of the wound, the poison will begin to travel to major organs. This includes the heart. We only have hours until permanent damage is made." Claude explained, his voice unnaturally calm for a life threatening situation.

"H-Hours?!" Marianne exclaimed, her nerves beginning to race. "W-What do we do? How are we-?"

"Calm down. Deep breath in, exhale for four seconds." Claude interrupted, resting a hand on her shoulder. He stayed silent until she was calm once more. "I'll take charge. As long as you can do what I ask of you, then we'll be fine." he murmured, a small smile on his face.

Determined, Marianne nodded. "Yes."

And so began a long, grueling hour of bustling around the infirmary, Claude busy making an antidote on the spot while instructing Marianne on how to get rid of the poison in Manuela's bloodstream. An hour later, she regained consciousness with a neat, thin pink scar along her torso and two students sighing in relief. Claude passed a small vial to her, explaining the need for it and the dosage.

"You've done well. Exceeded my teachings, at this point." she complimented. The two of them shyly smiled.

Not an hour later, a crowd of students and their professor piled into the infirmary, littered with injuries of all sorts of varying degrees. Manuela immediately got to work on the serious ones and ordered Claude and Marianne to focus on those with minor injuries. He had seen a glimpse of bright red hair lying on one of the beds and hissed, so he gently asked Marianne to tend to her while he went to Dorothea.

Eventually, Claude found himself in front of Flayn, a worried Seteth kneeled next to her bedside. "Are there any external injuries that have already been identified?" he asked, observing her pale face.

"Bruises on her wrists from struggling whilst captive. Otherwise we weren't able to see anything else." Seteth explained, his voice thin and weary.

"Understood." Claude's hands glowed with light magic. "I'll be conducting a quick check up to make sure there are no internal injuries." Carefully, he hovered his hands above her body, slowly moving around to detect any abnormalities. It wasn't long before he finished.

"Luckily, there seems to be nothing. There are also no puncture wounds. It's just the bruises around her wrists, which we'll apply a poultice and loosely wrap some gauze around to speed up the healing. Otherwise, Flayn will be on a bit of bedrest in order to regain strength." he explained, letting the magic fade from his hands.

"Thank you, Claude. I wasn't aware that you were well versed in healing and light magic." Seteth commented. Claude's lips twisted into an odd smile, eyes clouded in thought.

"It seemed like a useful skill to pick up." he finally answered, "You never know when you might need to heal in a pinch. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to tend to the other patients." With a quick bow, Claude moved away from Seteth and Flayn, deciding to walk over to where Linhardt was sitting on the ground. He didn't seem to be injured, but there was blood stained on his hands and a distant look on his face.

Claude frowned. He quickly grabbed a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, before stepping over and sitting in front of him.

"Linhardt." he softly spoke, gently tapping his knee. The scholar snapped out of his thoughts, his gaze meeting Claude's.

"A-Ah. Hello, Claude. Shouldn't you be tending to the others?" he asked, doing his best to quell the trembling in his hands and the fear in his voice.

"All minor injuries were taken care of, and Manuela refuses to let Marianne and I go near the major ones. Besides, you're the last one that hasn't been treated." he explained, wringing out the water from the cloth. "Is it alright if I touch your hands?"

Linhardt nodded, shutting his eyes. Carefully, Claude began to wipe away the blood, doing his best to be gentle. "It's alright to be afraid of blood." he whispered, making Linhardt open his eyes. "Even if you wash it away, sometimes you feel like it's still there. There's no point in scrubbing your hands raw."

"You say that like you know." the scholar commented. Claude's grip on his hands tightened ever so slightly.

"It doesn't get easier after the first kill." Claude murmured, wiping the last of the blood away and letting the familiar glow of light magic fill his hands again. "Once death becomes a constant, you grow numb."

There was no sign of injury that Claude could detect, so he let the light magic fade. "Don't hesitate to ask if you want any advice." he explained, a small smile on his face. "You're doing good work, Linhardt."

Gathering up his things, Claude stood to go clean up, leaving Linhardt to stare at his back in a confused and curious manner.

* * *

"I can't believe they're still making us do the Battle of the Eagle and Lion after such a stressful month! What a way to add fuel to the fire." Hilda groaned, slumping on the surface of her desk.

"Think of it as a way to relieve stress! Nothing like some fighting to get the blood pumping!" Raphael cheered, and Claude let out a snort.

"I dunno about you guys, but I'm determined to get the Golden Deer a win for once." he commented, uncrossing his legs and standing to approach the chalkboard. Classes had finished for the day, but they had stayed in to discuss the upcoming mock battle. The Archbishop had decided to let it continue as a way to raise morale between the students.

Twirling a piece of chalk between his fingers, he began to sketch out a rough layout of their battlefield. "We'll be travelling to Gronder Field for this battle," he started, "this is probably going to be our biggest battlefield we've fought on before, so we'd best prepare ourselves."

Immediately, Claude's mind began to race through different tactics and approaches. Vaguely, he circled three positions on his crudely drawn map. "These are the locations that each house will be starting at. They will be chosen the day of, so it'll be best if we plan for each one accordingly."

"So three tactics to remember? You're asking a lot of us, Claude." Ignatz commented, but took out a piece of parchment to record notes.

"Good training for the future. Besides, I'm not going to do all the dirty work. I want you guys to help out, pitch in any ideas you have for a formation or plan." He tapped on the board with a grin. "Besides, the faster we finish up, the quicker we'll all be able to leave."

With a bit of coaxing and leading, Claude was able to get his Deers into a smooth rhythm of suggesting ideas and asking questions. Before they knew it, they had one of the three tactics all planned out and were well onto the next. It wasn't long until Claude didn't have to help at all.

As he watched his housemates pour over a more accurate map of Gronder Field on one of the tables, he thought back. Claude hadn't touched Grounder, or anywhere near Adrestia for that matter during the war. As such, he was relying on memories that were five years old for this mock battle.

There was no blood shed during that time. He couldn't help but think there was.

It was odd for Claude to go into a battle and not expect any injury or death. Mock battles were no exception. While he had planned for a battle with live steel and those fighting to the death, his housemates planned for one with dull iron and camaraderie.

By the time dinner rolled around, they had finished up their rough plans for the mock battle. A reliable Ignatz and Lysithea had transcribed everything into neat notes, handing them off to Claude.

"Come on, leader man! You were the one so enthusiastic about it, and yet you didn't do any of the work!" Hilda joked, lightly punching his arm.

"Who says I wasn't scheming in the background!" he exclaimed, gently leafing through the pages. "But really, I'll go through all your ideas, fix 'em up a bit, and then we'll have another discussion about the changes."

"Ugh, how serious."

"The last time the Golden Deer won was when Holst was house leader, and that was years ago. Come on, you know that you want us to win this time, don't deny it." he teased. Hilda huffed, but she couldn't help the upward curl of her lips.

"Hmm, maybe just a little." she pouted, clinging onto Claude's arm and dragging him along. "Anyways, I'm starving! Let's go before Raphael ends up eating everything." With Hilda leading him along, Claude allowed his mind to wander briefly.

This was a mock battle. There would be no bloodshed. There would be no deaths. No one was going to leave the battlefield with a severed limb or a missing body part. It was  _ safe. _ No one was going to die.

Claude tried to remind himself of those facts. This was not a war, and he did not have to think like it was.

And yet, he couldn't help but think that everything was going to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i don't really have an excuse for my absence lol
> 
> last time i updated was... late april. at that time was when online school had started so I was getting adjusted to that, and then it was finals prep in june and by then one of my projects was, you guessed it, creative writing. at that point I had written just around 10k, edited it all, and then rewrote most of that as my final draft in the span of around two months so I was horribly burnt out for a long time.
> 
> however, there's no way in hell i'm going to abandon this fic. it is my child and i'm not gonna let my curse of never continuing any of my multi-chap fics get me again. thank you for still sticking with this fic even with my horrible updating schedule.
> 
> on a side note, next month is the one year anniversary of this fic~ jesus christ.
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/teddygirl105)  
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